


Cigarettes and Soda

by the_madame21



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Delinquent Iwaizumi Hajime, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Rated for future chapters, brief kurotsukki, delinquent au, handjobs, lots of feels, mention of blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8083234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_madame21/pseuds/the_madame21
Summary: Obnoxiously wealthy and completely incapable of holding his liquor, Oikawa Tooru stumbles upon the type of guy he hates the most. Because who in their right mind would smoke and cover themselves in tattoos?Apparently, his name was Iwaizumi Hajime.And he had reasonable cause for blackmail.





	1. Chapter 1

It was…very black. Very sharp.

_No._

No no _fuck._ He hated tattoos. His parents were gonna kill him. No, better than that, he’d just kill himself. No wait, there was laser removal. Didn’t that hurt like a bitch though? Shit, how much did he drink? Is that why his head was so heavy? Stop stop stop. Think, Tooru, _think._ Where was he? Deep breaths, that's it. Nice and slow. Inhale, exhale.

Slowly, on shaky arms, he sat up, looking around the room. 

He had no freaking clue. 

With the feeling of wanting to throw up he looked down at his arms, which were as pale and tattoo-less as ever. 

Wait. 

Something stirred next to him, and Oikawa froze. Because that was a very _low_ groan. Like a _male_ kind of groan. 

And Oikawa was in his underwear. 

_Why was he in his underwear???_

He jumped from the bed, not even _bothering_ to look at the stranger because _fuck that,_ running to what he hoped was the bathroom and shutting the door with rushed quietness. He splashed his face with water, pushed down the urge to vomit, and rinsed his mouth. He gripped at the sink with shaking hands, and then: he looked up. 

No no no _no nonononono_ this couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be _real._

Ok. Ok this was fine. 

Maybe the reason he had hickies all over his neck was because he was making out with a girl at the club and then got wasted and this guy had let him sleep on his couch. 

Yeah. 

And he was in his underwear because he just got hot when he slept. He probably took all his clothes off in a drunken stupor. 

Yeah.

And his hips hurt…

His hips hurts because…

He brought a hand to his mouth. No. No, this was fine. Maybe he’d lost his virginity last night. Yeah. And the girl had kicked him out of her apartment or whatever and that’s why this guy took him in. 

That’s probably what happened.

And if that was the case then he definitely had to go thank this stranger. 

Or you know. Leave a note and book it the fuck out of there. 

He opened the bathroom door slowly, taking a peek at the bed. Nothing but a giant lump of sheets and a tattooed arm. A very large, very tan, very muscular, arm. 

Fuck his head felt weird. 

Oikawa inched closer, trying to get a look at the stranger. But all he could see was a thick head of black hair. God, he couldn’t stop staring at that tattoo for some reason. He didn’t even know what it was, really. But there were a lot of sharp lines, going down nearly all the way to the stranger’s elbow. 

No. No no no, his heart did _not_ just twist. That was probably just his stomach. 

Ok. The stranger was sleeping. Oikawa’s best bet was to just get out now, call his driver and then he could figure out whatever he wanted to do after. 

He found his shirt relatively easily, tossing it over his head with haste, reaching over for his pants at the same time and successfully falling over, knocking a few cups off the nightstand. 

_“Fuck.”_ He cursed under his breath, praying to any and all gods that the stranger hadn't woken up, that he was still--

There was a creaking of a mattress, and another very _low_ groan, and then a simple “Oh.” 

Oikawa swallowed, clearing his throat and standing up awkwardly, finally putting his pants on all the way. “Hello…” He cringed upon hearing his own voice.

“Morning.” The stranger yawned, running a hand through black hair. 

_How could someone have such big arms?_

“Want some breakfast?” 

“Um.” Tooru looked around, reaching over to grab his phone, “No I…I was just leaving.” 

The stranger smirked, “Just like that?” 

Tooru’s eye twitched. He didn’t like the way that sounded. “I’m sorry I don’t really…” he closed his eyes, clearing his throat—

“Want a beer?” 

Oikawa looked at the stranger, panic shooting through his veins. It was—what time was it— eight? Eight in the morning. Who the fuck drinks _beer_ at eight in the morning? Just who _was_ this person? Oh god where was he, would he even be able to get home from here? He’d never go drinking again. He swore. If he could just get out of here…

“No. Look, I’m not really sure what happened but um…anyway I’m just gonna go, like I said—”

The stranger’s eyes widened, “You don’t remember any of it?” 

Tooru chuckled nervously. “Ahm…we just slept here, didn’t we? I’m sorry if I was any trouble—”

The stranger chuckled, and Oikawa noticed his adam’s apple bob up and down. “Dude. We did not just _sleep.”_

Oikawa paled, clearing his throat, “Um I was with a girl before…did she happen to…”

“Do you mind if I smoke?” 

_Oh of course he smokes. What better way to start the morning than with cigarettes and motherfucking beer._

Not that he said any of that out loud. He didn’t want to die. 

“Um…it’s your apartment so…”

The stranger shrugged, reaching over to the nightstand, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it behind a cupped palm. “Bothered you last night so I figured I’d ask.” 

_Last night?_

Oikawa could feel his hands start to sweat. “Um, what exactly…happened?” 

The stranger blew out some smoke. “You really don’t remember, Tooru?”

He froze. Why was this guy calling him by his given name? 

“H-How do you—I don’t even know you—”

The stranger looked him up and down, before blowing out some more smoke. “So you don’t even know my name?”

Oikawa shifted.

The stranger scoffed. “Iwaizumi Hajime.” 

Tooru nodded.

“You’re a typical rich kid aren’t you?” 

Tooru could start to feel his heart pound, “I’m not really—”

“I’ll tell ya what. Buy me cigarettes for the rest of the month and I won’t leak these pictures. You got a reputation, don’t you?” 

Oh. 

He definitely shouldn’t have held down his vomit for so long. 

It’s a miracle he even made it to the bathroom, let alone the toilet, before all hell broke loose, his legs trembling even though they were folded beneath him, the sour taste poisoning his mouth. 

Iwaizumi was standing in the doorway, showing off tan skin covered only by a black pair of boxers. His arms were folded as he watched Oikawa hurl into the toilet. “You don’t drink much, do you?” 

Tooru coughed, not really wanting to breathe because the more he breathed the more he could _taste_ and god it was just so _bad—_

He hurled again, spitting into the bowl. “Yesterday…that was my first and last time.” He groaned, flushing the toilet and shuffling over to the sink to rinse his mouth. 

Iwaizumi scoffed, shaking his head, “All you rich kids are the same.” 

Oikawa glared at him. “Meaning?” 

“You can’t take jack shit.” 

Oikawa was going to refute that, but his legs started to shake again, and if he was gonna throw up all over again then he wasn’t sure anything he said would be able to prove the stranger otherwise. 

Wait. Wait wait wait wait, didn’t his guy mention something about _pictures_ a few moments before? 

“Um, about what you said?”

“My offer, you mean?”

Oikawa swallowed. “If you don’t have any proof of anything—I can’t even remember last night so for all I know—”

The stranger pulled out his phone, swiping across the screen a few times, before holding it up to Oikawa’s face. 

That was most definitely a penis. 

“What the fuck!” Oikawa tried to snatch the phone away, but Iwa evaded him, holding Tooru back and keeping his phone out of reach. “You seriously don’t remember dude?” He laughed, “That’s so weak! How much did you drink?”

“A lot ok!” Oikawa continued to struggle, “If that gets out I—”

“What, everyone will know you’re gay?” 

“I’m not gay!!” He screeched, “You’re lying! That can’t be me! We definitely didn’t—I was with a girl—”

“Dude. Those marks on your neck are _mine.”_

“I’m telling you I’m not g—”

Oikawa was grabbed by the front of his shirt with a certain kind of _strength_ that made both his stomach and heart race, his mouth falling onto the stranger’s lips. 

Oh.

Fuck.

No no no nononononononononono no no no no _no_ _why_ did that feel familiar? There was no way in _hell_ that could feel familiar. There was no way Oikawa would ever kiss another _guy,_ no way he would— but then why was he getting random flashes of low moans and a dark room, his own soft giggles and wait— he didn’t _giggle_ just what in the fuck—

“Not as gross as I thought.”

“Huh?” Oikawa stood bewildered, looking at the stranger with wide eyes and heavy pants. 

“You just threw up and all.” 

“Oh.” Oikawa said, figuring that was reasonable enough. Whoa, _what? Reasonable, what the hell--_  “Wait—”

“Like I said, cigarettes for a month and I’ll delete the picture.” 

Oikawa could do nothing short of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He definitely _did not_ just think of that lingering smokey taste as _pleasant._ Especially since this  _guy_ , whoever he was, was seriously freaking  _threatening_ him right now--

“Oy,” the stranger barked, “We got a deal or what?” 

God, what was this guy _saying?_ Oikawa couldn’t even think straight. There was no way, absolutely no way— he was almost _sure_ he would never— but that photo— wouldn’t his ass be hurting a lot more? Unless…Tooru was the one to stick in it? In which case that wouldn’t be _as_ bad. Somehow it didn’t seem _as_ gay. But no matter how he looked at it, even if the stranger was shorter than Oikawa, there was something about him that just screamed _top._ Had Oikawa seriously lost his _other_ virginity and he didn’t even fucking remember?

_Fuck._

“Fine just. Cigarettes. One month, and everything gets deleted. And no one can know about this. You can’t—you can’t tell anyone. One month and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it the first time. You go to Seijou right? That private school?” 

Oikawa was just about ready to call the fucking cops. “How do you know that?!”

The stranger pointed to the edge of the bed, where Oikawa’s school jacket rested. “You were wearing your uniform.”

“Oh.”

That’s right, he thought, yesterday was Friday. “Well what does that matter?” He bit defensively. 

Iwaizumi shrugged. “I’ll pick you up after school. I go through a lot of cigs.” 

Oikawa’s mouth opened in horror. “You can’t do that! I can’t be seen with someone like you!”

“How the hell are you supposed to buy me what I want then?” 

“I’ll, I’ll have it delivered—”

“Typical rich kid. Always looking for the easy way out—”

“Isn’t it bad enough you’re doing this?! Why do I have to—”

“I prefer the personal touch,” the stranger said easily, “But if you can’t handle that then I guess this picture is gonna get posted—”

“Fine!” Oikawa said a bit too quickly, stomping to the edge of the bed, snatching his jacket and then tossing it over his shoulders. “Do whatever the fuck you want!” 

“I’ll hold you to that!” Iwaizumi shouted after him, but Oikawa was too pissed to care. He slammed the apartment door shut, the wind slapping his face as he stepped outside. 

This was fucking _ridiculous._ But he couldn’t think about any of it right now. First and foremost he had to get home. Take a fucking shower. Maybe two. Or three. And then a bath and make sure his body wasn’t any more violated than he currently knew. 

Iwa watched as that obnoxious brat of a kid not just left his apartment, but _stomped_ out of it, as if he were throwing a tantrum.

Well, serves him right, Iwa thought. Maybe that was mean. But the guy deserved it, talking all high and mighty like he didn’t remember a goddamn thing. Acting all rich and spoiled and just… _spoiled._

Well, he’d been pretty fucking spoiled last night too. But at least last night…

Aw damn. What was he doing? This was low, even for him. To be blackmailing a guy for…

Well it’s Tooru’s own goddamn fault for not realizing that picture wasn’t even _him._ Jeez, how stupid could you get? Besides, he was freaking asking for it, with all that bullshit last night. 

But what had Hajime expected? All rich kids were the same. Especially rich _guys._ And this one didn’t even want to admit the fact that he was _gay._ Ok maybe not _gay_ gay. Bi, at least, if yesterday was any indication. The guy was piss drunk but shit, this wasn’t one of those _I’m curious_ scenarios. 

_Iwa-chan. More._

God what was he _thinking?_ This spoiled ass kid adding a fucking _-chan_ to the end of his name because _Iwaizumi_ was ‘too long to say.’

Iwa slumped onto his bed, head in his hands. That guy was a damn siren. Seduction at it’s finest. What the hell had he gotten himself into? The kid was right, for them to be seen together would be weird at best, but Iwa couldn’t help it. He was pissed off. 

Because this wasn’t a one night stand. Not even close. They didn’t do much more than make out. Well, Iwa made sure to leave his mark of course. He smirked at the thought of that guy's neck covered in bites. Ha, that was a good feeling.

But...

It’d been a long ass time since Iwa let anyone stay over without getting something in return. 

And that was really fucking scary. 

_Christ_ what was he _doing?_ Isn’t this the same situation with puppies? Like don’t play with them because then you’ll get attached or something like that. Why didn’t he just let the guy go? What was the point in it? 

Not to mention the guy was a total _baby._ He’d had like three drinks. Fucking lightweight. And he was fucking _whiney_ too, telling Iwa  _how_ to kiss, _where_ to kiss, fucking demanding and entitled and _spoiled_ as hell. And then the ass didn’t even wanna go home. Had _clung_ to Iwa, wanting to sleep and ‘eat chips.’ And after whining and complaining and _begging_ for food, and Iwa finally fucking  _bringing him some,_ the bastard was asleep.

And Iwa _let_ him sleep. 

Fuck.

He fell back onto his bed, spreading his arms out. 

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Iwa  _wanted_ to spoil this obnoxious brat of a human being. Probably because he was pretty. And Iwa was weak to pretty boys. Especially if they had a certain shine to them, and Oikawa definitely had his own spark. 

It’s not like Oikawa was the first nice face he’d ever been with. Iwa had a bit of a record going. But he’d never _not_ gotten laid before.

So that was new. 

But Iwa liked new things. And this guy, this Oikawa Tooru, wasn’t just shiny and new.

He was also one hell of a good kisser. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwa revved the engine, shouting back at Tooru to 'hold on,' and Oikawa didn’t want to find out what would happen if he didn’t so he grabbed onto Iwaizumi as if his life depended on it.
> 
> Because in all honesty, it probably did.

Ok. Well. His neck wasn’t _littered_ in hickies, exactly. There was a big purple blotch on his left side, and a smaller one right below, by his collarbone. Then on the other side there were three small bites on his shoulder, and one right where his neck met his shoulder. All easily hidden. 

Except for the purple blotch. Because that thing was huge. Like embarrassingly huge, even after the two day weekend.

And he’d gotten it from a _guy._

But that was _fine._ Because it was just one of those things right? It just…happened. And now it was over, and he’d never do any of it ever again.

So everything was…

Fine. 

_And,_ if he wore a scarf then there was no problem at all. And he was doing that thing where you rub the bruise with a hairbrush so it’ll disappear faster. It was sort of working for now. And it’d all be faded and gone soon enough. Not to mention, his parents hadn’t noticed a damn thing. 

So life was…

Fine. 

Besides, he had more important things to worry about. It was the beginning of the year, and as the President of Student Affairs, he had a lot on his plate. 

Dances to organize, clubs to schedule, fundraisers to host. It was a big job. But nothing he couldn’t handle.

There was nothing Oikawa Tooru couldn’t handle. 

Er…well…almost. 

In all honesty he was panicking. Because what if that guy _didn’t_ delete the photo? What if he’d already posted it? What would Tooru's parents say?

What would his _Dad_ say?

Tooru inhaled deeply. His dad would just never find out, that’s all. Yes. That was the best solution. Of course, depending on how this went, he’d have to make sure his driver kept his mouth shut about Oikawa taking some random delinquent to convenience stores. And he’d have to make it so that his friends never saw him around someone like Iwaizumi. Because there really was no other way to explain it short of describing the blackmail. 

Life was so hard, sometimes. 

And it was precisely with these thoughts in mind that Tooru went through his day, chewing at the inside of his cheeks and effectively making his lip bleed. By the time school ended, Oikawa was nothing short of a mess. Because _oh god_ he was really gonna have to see that guy again, wasn’t he? 

Unless, Iwa _didn’t_ show up.

What would Oikawa do if he didn’t show up? What would he do if he  _did?_

Because it was already a solid three minutes after the bell had rung. And there was no sign of dark tattoos or black hair anywhere. 

“Oikawa-san?”

He _jumped._

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you!” 

“Mei-san!” Oikawa chuckled nervously, “Not at all!” 

Christ he wasn't ever on edge like this. It just wasn’t like him. 

“Were you waiting for someone?” 

Oikawa glanced quickly at his watch, before flashing the girl a smile, “Ah, no. Not particularly.” They then began to discuss the upcoming student body elections, of which Mei would be holding an assembly for, since she was the Secretary. It was something Oikawa had done before, so he was more than happy to give some advice. 

That was just the kind of person he was, after all. 

And just when Tooru thought he’d forgotten all about that large-armed punk, there was an obnoxiously large sound of a motor, and the screeching of tires. 

Mei jumped back, though the bike had stopped just at the sidewalk. 

Iwa took off his helmet, running a hand through his hair and then looking at Oikawa.

“Oy, Tooru. Let’s go.”

Even Mei looked taken aback, having this person call Tooru by his given name. 

“We’re taking my car.” Oikawa said through gritted teeth. 

“Like hell I’m gonna get into a fucking limo—”

“It’s not a limo!” Oikawa defended, “You can’t just assume—”

Mei cleared her throat rather _loudly_ , a bright blush on her cheeks. Oikawa forgot she was even _there._  

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before.” 

Iwa turned his attention to the girl, flashing a charming smile. “Iwaizumi. Sorry if this guy’s bothering you. I’ll get him out of your hair soon.”

She laughed _obnoxiously_ loud at that, setting Tooru on edge for whatever reason. 

“Oh, not at all! I didn’t know Oikawa-san had a friend like you.”

“Oh yeah,” Iwa leaned over his bike, “Him and I are _real_ close.” 

He winked, the bastard. 

And Mei was blushing _really_ hard now. “Um, that’s a really cool motorcycle! I think I’d be scared to death to drive one.” She giggled in a girlish way, tugging at the ends of her skirt. 

Oikawa was _seriously_ starting to get irritated for some reason. 

“Well maybe I’ll take you for a ride sometime.” Iwa _smirked_ and Oikawa though Mei might as well have been a tomato with her stupid round face and her stupid red cheeks. 

“Are we going or what?” Tooru snapped, “I have things to do.” 

“Well hop on already, fuck.” Iwa snapped right back. 

“Motorcycles are death traps.” Oikawa said flatly. 

Iwaizumi deadpanned, “There’s a higher chance of you being crushed to death by a vending machine.”

“Well at least vending machines aren’t driven by _you—”_

“Just get on the fucking bike already.” 

Oikawa shifted, pursing his lips together. He wasn’t exactly used to people telling him what to do, so he didn’t really know how to react. 

“Have fun you two!” Mei said, all smiles and bubbly laughter, “We should all get food sometime!” 

She was being _far_ to friendly for Tooru’s tastes. And he wasn’t sure why, but getting on that fucking vehicle of death felt like it’d be spiting her. Which was why he got on as quickly as possible. 

“That your girlfriend?” Iwa said, as Tooru swung his legs over the seat.

“I don’t even know her.” Oikawa snarled, highly pissed for some reason. “Where’s my helmet?”

Iwa glanced back at him, slowly putting his own on. 

“You don’t have an extra helmet?”

“Uh…no?”

“Well why the hell not?!”

“Because I’m only one person you fucking idiot!” 

“Well then let me wear yours!” 

“Hell no! If we crash—”

“What do you mean if we _crash!??”_

Iwa revved the engine, shouting back at Tooru to 'hold on,' and Oikawa didn’t want to find out what would happen if he _didn’t_ so he grabbed onto Iwaizumi as if his life depended on it.

Because in all honesty, it probably did. 

Iwa drove fast. Like really fucking fast. And it didn’t take very long before they were in an area Tooru didn’t recognize. And that was when Oikawa realized _just_ how naive he was. Because what the hell was he doing jumping on a motorcycle and letting this guy take him to wherever? Oikawa didn’t even know who this guy really _was._

What if he took him to some abandoned warehouse? And then he got mugged?

Oh _god_ what if this guy was in a gang?? He had tattoos after all. Yakuza? They had tattoos, didn’t they? What if they held him for ransom? He was an Oikawa after all. But worse than that what if they…

What if they…

“Stop!” He _screeched,_ tugging at the guy’s jacket, wanting to get off the bike at all costs. 

“Jeez, calm down. We’re here already.” 

Oikawa opened his eyes, not even realizing until that point that they were even _closed,_ and saw with much relief that they were in front of a perfectly respectable looking convenience store. 

“Oh.” He said, clearing his throat, swinging his leg with a bit of awkwardness to get off the motorcycle. 

“I’m a good driver,” Iwa said casually, “You don’t have to look _that_ pale.” 

“You were _definitely_ over the speed limit.” 

“It’s efficient.” Iwaizumi defended, putting his hands in his pockets, and heading into the store. A bell run as they walked in.

“Iwaaaah!” 

“Yo!”

Oikawa watched as Iwa walked over to slap hands with the young man at the counter, the two sharing a friendly greeting. 

“Ey you haven’t been here in a while.”

“Poor as fuck dude. Hook me up.”

“Old man’ll kill me.” 

Iwa chuckled. “True that. Give me a box of my usual.” 

A pack of cigarettes were thrown against the counter, making Oikawa flinch slightly at the sudden sound. 

“Want anything?”

Oikawa blinked, realizing about a beat too late that Iwa was talking to _him_ now. “Oh. Uh. No, I’m good.” 

Iwa shrugged, before reaching into the small fridge by the counter and pulling out a Dr. Pepper. He placed it next to the box of cigarettes, and then looked at Oikawa again.

“W-What?” He shifted nervously. 

Iwa motioned to the cashier. “Pay him.” 

The cashier laughed, “You got yourself a sugar daddy now, Iwa?”

Iwa scoffed, the giant grin on his face making Oikawa’s stomach uneasy. “Something like that.” 

“Oy, kid.” The cashier turned to face Tooru, ringing up the order “He’s not holding you against your will or anything is he?” 

Iwa laughed, “Shut _up_ , bro.” 

“I’m serious! I need to hear it from pretty boy’s mouth.” 

Oikawa swallowed thickly, pulling out his wallet. “It’s fine.” 

Iwa took the soda while Oikawa paid, the guy at the counter fumbling with the cash register. “You’re not paying to suck his dick, right?” 

Iwa spit out his drink, laughing _hard_ even though this wasn’t funny at _all,_ and Oikawa paled ghost white, thinking he might throw up. “It’s not like that!” He justified immediately, practically screeching. 

“Yeah,” Iwa said, still laughing, still trying to drink more Dr. Pepper, “I’d let him do that for free.” 

Now it was the cashier who started laughing, Iwa still struggling to _not_ spit up his soda. 

Oikawa’s heart raced with panic, as he tried to explain the situation to the cashier. “It’s not—I’m not—I’m straight—”

“Tooru, it’s fine—” Iwa began—

“No it’s _not_ fine,” Oikawa bit back, “And don’t call me so casually. I don’t even _know_ you.” 

Iwaizumi held his hands up defensively, before taking another chug of his soda. “Whatever,” then, turning to his friend, “See you later, man.” He said, grabbing the box of cigarettes.

"I don't serve prostitutes Hajime!" The guy called, and Iwa snickered, and Oikawa tugged at the sleeves of his school blazer, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there.

The ride back to school, or at least, Oikawa _thought_ they were going back to his school, was slower. Almost at the speed limit, but still slightly over. And Oikawa was deeply grateful for that. Because in all honesty he’d hated going so fast before. At least this time, he didn’t have to close his eyes _as_ tight. He still wished he had a helmet though.

But no matter how you looked at it, this was all still pretty _gay._ Two guys on a bike together? Gods what was he _doing?_ Clinging onto this guy as if they were _boyfriends_ or something. But it’s not like he had any other choice. If he didn’t hold on then he’d probably fly off the bike and die. And that would seriously suck. He couldn't die now. There were way too many school activities to plan. So he held on.

And…Iwaizumi offered quite a bit to hold on to. All broad shoulders and toned stomach and hard back. Well, maybe that was obvious. With the broad shoulders that were visible to anyone it only made sense that his back and stomach were the same. But the way things were now, Oikawa could _feel_ the tensed muscles against his cheek, could _feel_ the rough outlines of Iwa’s stomach through his shirt. And for one reason or another…

It made his face go hot. 

But that was ridiculous. Because Oikawa was absolutely one hundred percent straight. 

Probably.

Iwaizumi slowly rolled to a stop, parking at one of the designated spots in front of what Oikawa recognized to be his apartment.

_Why were they here?_

“Oy, Shittykawa, let’s go.”

He cringed. He’d prefer Tooru over that. “My name is _Oikawa._ ”

“Yeah but your personality is shit. Hurry up.” 

Oikawa grudgingly followed, though he wasn’t sure _why._ If they were at Iwa’s apartment already then he wasn’t sure what more the guy wanted. He’d bought the cigs. Wasn't that what they'd agreed to?

“Hungry?” Iwa said, tossing his keys in a small bowl by the door.

“No.” 

He was, though.

Iwa dropped his bag on the ground, and then kicked off his shoes. “Wanna make out?” 

“What?” Tooru forgot to breathe.

“Isn’t that why you followed me up here?” 

Oikawa reddened. “No! I’m not like that! You’re—”

“So what’d you follow me in here for?”

“I don’t know!” Oikawa flapped his arms, “You just told me to—”

Oh fuck. When did Iwa get so close to his face?

“Would you do anything I told you?” 

This guy…this guy was shorter than Tooru. So why did Tooru feel so fucking _threatened?_

“Like hell!” 

He was about to push past him, but Iwa grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him up against the wall. 

Tooru’s blood rushed in his ears and his heart pounded like crazy. _Why was his heart pounding like crazy?_  

Iwa smirked. “Don’t make that face.” 

“What face?” He spat defensively.

“Like you’re expecting something.” Iwa’s voice was deep and low, rumbling in the quiet of the apartment. And even though Oikawa didn’t know _why,_ he could feel his face start to heat up. “I’m not expecting _anything_. I keep telling you: I’m. Not. Gay.” 

“In that case,” Iwa said, inching closer, “No homo.” 

Oikawa felt a rush of heat on his mouth, soft but demanding, and even though he knew this was a kiss, was registering this _as a kiss,_ he couldn’t pull away, his knees weakening beneath him. 

And then there was another flash of a dark room and hushed giggles, the familiar feeling of lips on his neck. Of rough ' _Toorus'_ and softly whispered ' _Iwa-chans.'_

Wait. 

_Iwa-chan?_

“S-Stop—”

Iwa didn’t.

And that was bad. Bad bad _bad_ because Oikawa’s body was moving on it’s own, kissing the guy back, holding onto the front of his white shirt and _trembling_ as if he were a girl. 

“Please stop.” Oikawa turned his head, pushing Iwaizumi away, _knowing_ his face was red, _knowing_ he was anything but composed. 

Iwa smirked. “Why?” 

“Because this isn’t—we’re not—“

The smoker kissed him again, and Oikawa pushed him away again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m serious! There’s this thing called _consent_ you know—”

“You’re not really fighting back, though?” Iwa teased, a small smile tugging at his lips, as he leaned in a third time. 

So Oikawa slapped him. Because for one, he was pretty sure if he punched him he would’ve just given himself a broken hand. Two, he’d never thrown a punch in his life. Three, a slap seemed to be his most natural reaction. 

Only, instead of throwing him off guard, Iwa just laughed. “Holy shit you’re something else.” 

Tooru frowned, his hands balling up into fists. “I’m leaving.” He declared rather boldly, making a show of grabbing his school bag and tossing it over his shoulder. 

“You really don’t remember anything?” Iwa called after him, once Oikawa had already opened the door. 

“Obviously,” he snapped, not turning around. 

“Buy my groceries on Thursday and I’ll tell you.” 

“I can’t.” He said, about to shut the door. But Iwa called after him again. “Sure you can. I’ll pick you up. Thursday.” 

“Don’t bother.” And with that he _slammed_ the door. Mostly because Oikawa had never gotten to slam a door before and it felt really cool. There was also the fact that Oikawa literally _couldn’t_ go with him on Thursday because he had Presidential duties to take care of with Mei and the other cabinet members. 

But it also sounded super cool if Oikawa just left if all obscure like that. Which was kind of exciting. Sort of a ‘I’ll see you when I see you’ type of thing. It filled Oikawa’s head with a rush of power. Which was something he definitely needed. Because even though it’d only been one day, Tooru got the feeling power was something he’d definitely need, whenever Iwaizumi Hajime was involved. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh thank you for all of the lovely comments so far! I can't wait to hear what you think of this next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwa bought a surprising amount of ingredients. And he was also a surprisingly good cook. Not that Oikawa had chosen to stay at that guy’s place for dinner. More like he was forced.

Somehow it’d ended up like this. 

The student council at his house. Which was fine. That was  the plan. Including Iwaizumi, however, was not. 

“I’ll be your vice,” he’d said with a sneaky grin. Because _today_ of all days, the only other male cabinet member had decided to call in sick. Which would have been _fine,_ Oikawa was used to taking care of things all on his own anyway, but then Iwaizumi showed up out of nowhere, tossing Oikawa around about how he promised to buy his groceries, and the moment Mei caught sight of him it was all over. 

_“We’d love your input!”_

Ugh. In that _girly_ voice she got. Oikawa hoped that maybe Hikaru (the treasurer, a very solid girl,fully logical) would be his saving grace. But she agreed with Mei, saying having a secondary male opinion would be beneficial to the student body. 

And then Iwaizumi had _winked_ so of course it was all over after that, because even Hikaru was blushing. And that took quite a bit, Oikawa knew, because he was a pretty smooth talker himself when he wanted to be. So this entire situation was nothing short of ridiculous, having them all there at Oikawa’s house. In his _room. Iwa,_ this absolute _nobody_ was in his _room._

But that wasn’t the worst of it. Oh no, not at all. Because Mei had already left, and Hikaru was waiting for her driver, despite the fact that they hadn't finished what they'd intended. Which was _fine_ , Oikawa was counting on finishing up the rest on his own anyway, but he knew Iwa wouldn’t leave. Because on the ride to his house that guy had leaned in _real_ close to Oikawa, saying he _definitely_ owed him groceries after this. 

Which Oikawa would have rejected. But that’s not exactly how blackmail works, which Iwa was so gracious to reminded him. 

And Hikaru was leaving now. Was saying _thank you_ for letting the club use this space, was shutting the door behind her to hide the blush on her goddamn face when she said _bye-bye_ to Iwaizumi with a flirty wave of her hand which was so goddamn _stupid_ because she never said _bye-bye_ it was always _goodbye_ and—

“Yeesh. You guys sure have a lot to do. Glad I’m not in school anymore.” 

“Yes well some of us want to be successful in life.” Oikawa snapped rudely, gathering the scattered papers together. 

But that guy just laughed. Probably because he didn’t take anything seriously. “An unconventional path is still a path, you know.” 

“You won’t be able to do much without a high school diploma.” Oikawa said smartly. 

“I have one.” He said. 

Oikawa’s eyes widened, his voice hushing slightly. “Oh. I thought we were the same age.” 

“We are,” Iwa said with a yawn, sprawling out against the floor, “But I had to work fast after getting kicked out.” 

Tooru looked over, Iwa looking completely at peace with his eyes closed like that. “Kicked out?”

“My parents didn’t take kindly to my _demonic_ sexual preference.”

Oikawa stiffened, chewing his lip and then turning his attention to his papers. “Sorry,” he said, then looking over at him, “But…you like girls too, don’t you? I mean, it would’ve been easy to live a normal life…” Wait, was he allowed to say something like that? 

But Iwa just shook his head. “Nah. I mean, I’ve dated girls before. But it never felt right. I finally realized why, my second year. But I guess I’d always liked guys, even before that.” 

“So…” Oikawa said, “You’re… _gay_ gay then?”

Iwa chuckled, “What the hell, man? You’re so weird.” 

Oikawa blushed, even though he didn’t really know why he was blushing in the first place. 

“No it’s just…” Oikawa trailed off, not sure if he should say.

“What?” Iwa glanced over curiously, resting his head against his palms. 

“Nothing...just…you don’t look it.”

“Well what the fuck does gay _look_ like?” 

Tooru’s eyes widened, before he looked back down at his papers. “Sorry.” 

Iwa shrugged. “It’s fine, I get it. No one ever thinks of the athlete as the gay one.” 

Oikawa glanced up, “You’re an athlete?”

Iwaizumi leaned back, biting his nail, “Used to be.” 

“What sport?” 

“Volleyball.” 

Oikawa bit his lip, clearing his throat awkwardly. “That’s kind of a _gay_ sport…” He murmured, shrieking when Iwa practically smashed his head in. “Ow!” 

“Volleyball is intense as fuck.” 

“Sure it is.” Oikawa said, rubbing his head, arranging the last set of flyers. 

“Heh. Think youcan do it, pretty boy?”

Oikawa glanced at him, stapling the stack of papers and making sure they were all neatly arranged. “The only thing volleyball requires is height. So probably.” 

Iwa chuckled. “Challenge accepted.” 

“What?”

“This weekend. But first, let’s go.”

“Where? I’m still not done—”

“You owe me groceries. I gotta eat dinner you know.” 

Oikawa opened his mouth but then shut it again. “We’re taking my car this time.”

Iwa shrugged, “Fine by me.”

* * *

 

Iwa bought a surprising amount of ingredients. And he was also a surprisingly good cook. Not that Oikawa had _chosen_ to stay at that guy’s place for dinner. More like he was _forced._ But it beat eating alone, which was sure to happen once he got home. 

Even still, he couldn’t let his guard down. Because this guy was still a stranger, and he was still blackmailing him. 

Oikawa wiped his mouth politely with the napkin, and thanked him for the dinner. 

“I’m pretty good, huh?” Iwa said with a flashy smile, taking Oikawa’s plate from him. Tooru watched as Iwaizumi began to do the dishes, back muscles tensing and relaxing under that thin shirt. His tattoo was only partly visible this way. And Oikawa was almost about to ask him about it, but somehow that felt…weird. 

“Do you need help?” He said with a clear of his throat, feeling awkward just sitting there. 

“Are you sure you know how?” Iwa jabbed, not bothering to look at him. 

“I’m not incompetent.” Oikawa shot back, standing up from his chair. 

Iwa chuckled, handing him a rag, “You can dry ‘em,” he said, before planting a kiss on Tooru’s cheek. “You’re real cute when you’re angry, you know?” 

Oikawa paled and flushed all the same time, nearly dropping the plate he’d just picked up. “What the hell is with you?” He shouted, though it looked more like he was yelling at the plate.

Iwa glanced over curiously, making a questioning sound before returning to washing the pan. 

“I know this is some sort of joke to you but this is my reputation on the line! What if someone sees—”

“We’re in my apartment—”

“That doesn’t matter! I don’t wanna be kissed by a guy!”

Iwa cocked his head and smirked, “Are you sure about that?” 

Tooru hesitated, instincts making him take a small step back. “O-Obviously. I’m not—”

“Gay. Yeah. You’ve told me.” Iwa said, returning his attention to the soapy water. 

Oikawa stiffened, drying the dish in his hand mechanically. He swallowed awkwardly, wishing the blush in his cheeks would go down.

“You’re making that face again,” Iwa said, handing him the next plate. 

“What face?” Oikawa replied, scrunching up his features. 

“Like you’re expecting something.” Iwa turned off the faucet before looking at him, and scoffing. “Well, I guess it comes with being spoiled, right?”

Oikawa was going to say something, but his breath kind of caught in his throat and Iwa’s hand was suddenly grabbing his chin and it sort of _hurt_ but worse than that his hand was all _wet_ from washing dishes and that just felt _weird_ because why couldn’t Iwa have just dried them real quick and oh god he was going to kiss him again wasn’t he and—

“Don’t you think so? Tooru?” 

And it was a sharp inhale, like all the blood had rushed to his head because Tooru had never heard his name like that, didn’t know it _could_ sound like that, all rich and deep and just—

But Iwa was pushing even harder now, was grabbing his waist and pressing his tongue between Tooru’s teeth and _no_ because this was a _guy’s_ tongue but oh gods _yes_ because Iwa was touching him oh-so-nicely and that guy’s mouth was so deliciously _hot_ and—

Iwaizumi pulled away, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. “That was full homo this time, by the way.” 

Oikawa’s eyes widened, before the red rose to his face and he brought his arm up to try and hide himself. “W-What! What the hell!” 

Hajime calmly returned to the dishes, turning the faucet back on as though nothing had happened. 

Tooru’s cheeks were still wet. Lips probably slightly swollen because Iwa didn’t kiss like a person, he kissed like a goddamn _brute_ but he was a _guy_ so what the hell was Oikawa expecting when—

Wait.

Why was he expecting _anything_ in the first place??

He slammed the plate down with as much strength as he could manage, but still carefully enough to where he didn’t break it, which just felt weird because he was pissed but he felt like if he broke this guy’s plate then Iwa might go ahead and break _him_ and at this point he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing—

“You gonna storm out again? Like an angry housewife?”

Tooru swallowed. Collected himself. He’d engaged in debates and public speeches before. He could certainly maintain composure in a situation like this. He'd been trained his entire life to approach situations calmly and intelligently. “The only reason I came here,” he began, “Was because you said if I bought you groceries, you’d tell me what happened last week.” 

Iwa nodded, patting his hands against his pants and turning to face Oikawa. “Yeah.”

“Then?”

Iwa frowned, “Then what?”

“Tell me what happened.” Oikawa managed with all the patience in the world. 

Iwa shrugged, “Nothing much. You shouldn’t be so trusting of people, you know.” 

“You said you’d tell me, so tell me!” 

“Well I guess I lied,” Iwa said all too easily, going so far as to shrug his shoulders. 

Oikawa blinked. And then he blinked again. And then he grabbed Iwa by the front of his shirt, yelling as loud as he could. “What the hell? Is this all some sort of joke to you? I actually have something to lose ok! I already agreed to your stupid conditions so what do you gain from throwing me around like this?” 

Iwa’s face hardened, before he grabbed Oikawa by the wrists and pulled him off. “Calm down. I told you, didn’t I? You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Don’t call another guy cute!” Oikawa shouted, “I’m not a homo like you!” 

“Dude, I get the denial stage and all, but I think you need to come to terms with it already.”

“It’s not denial—”

“No? You wanna know what happened last week? My dick was so far up your ass you couldn’t fucking _breathe—”_

“You’re lying!” 

But Iwa was real close now, backing Oikawa against the wall. “You’re the only one lying Tooru. Heh. You don’t remember? _You_ hit on _me._ Begging for more and more like the kid you are, acting all sorts of spoiled. Remember yet?” 

Oikawa shook his head, trying to push Iwa back, “Stop! Get away from me!” 

“Really? Cuz you weren’t saying that before. _Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan,_ _bite me._ ”

“I’d never say that!” 

“Then why are you hard!” 

Tooru froze, only just now realizing that Iwa’s thigh was between his legs, that he _was_ reacting to it, that maybe, just _maybe_ Iwa’s gruff shouts had been sort of manly and attractive, that this guy…this guy…

Iwa pulled away, making a weird face, “Don’t cry Shittykawa. It’s not that serious.”

Was he crying? Is that why his face felt wet? No this wasn't...he couldn't _actually_ be... “B-But," Oh crap, he really _was_ crying, "I-I can’t be…my mom…my _dad_ …I’m not…I’m supposed to…” 

Iwa went to the fridge and pulled out a Dr. Pepper, popping the metal cap off with his palm, and then offering it to Tooru. 

Oikawa swallowed, wiping his tears quickly and then taking the drink, sipping it with two hands as if he were a child. 

“Parents can be bitches sometimes.” 

“They’ll disown me.” Oikawa whispered, shaky legs taking him to sit back down at the small table. 

“Maybe.” Iwa said, sitting across from him.

“You’re reassuring.” Oikawa snapped. 

Iwa shrugged, tapping his fingers against the table and leaning back against the wall. “Up to you, what you wanna do now.” 

Oikawa rubbed his thumb against the glass bottle, thinking. “Did we…” he couldn’t bear to look at him, “Did we really…have sex?” 

Iwaizumi laughed. And maybe Oikawa should have been annoyed, but somehow, it was reassuring. “You’re too much for me, dude.” Iwa pulled out his phone, swiped the screen a few times, and then tossed it on the table. 

Oikawa quickly looked away, and pushed the phone back, “I’ve seen it already. What’s the point?”

“No seriously,” Iwa said, pushing it towards Oikawa again, “ _Look_ at it.” 

Tooru cringed, but looked at the screen anyway, the Instagram logo bright and clear, and for a moment his heart stopped because _oh god had he posted it already?_ But then Oikawa looked closer, saw the absurd amount of likes, caught the username, saw the comments adoring the model-to-be.

“This isn’t me.” He said flatly.

“Nope.” Iwa had taken the soda, was drinking from it. 

“You…” Too many thoughts were spinning through his head. That Iwaizumi had lied. That’d he duped him out of a decent amount of money, that this guy was just playing him, that they hadn’t actually had sex—

“Wait. That means—”

“Yup.” 

“So I’m not gay!” 

Iwa put his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm. “After all that you’re seriously gonna say that?” 

“But we didn’t have sex—”

“So that disqualifies you from being gay?” 

Oikawa blushed, looked back down at the photo. Maybe it didn't. But still. He hadn't had sex with another guy. Which was somehow reassuring. Somewhat disappointing.

Wait.

“You lied to me," he said, trying to clear his head, "To get free stuff.” 

“Only a little.” Iwa said with a smirk. 

Oikawa handed him back his phone, another million thoughts rushing through his head. It hadn’t even been a week. And Oikawa really hadn’t bought him all that much. So why tell him now? 

“We should go out.” Iwaizumi said suddenly.

“W-What?” 

“Go out with me.” 

“Why would I do that? You’re—”

“Cuz I still want free stuff. But the whole blackmail thing felt sort of wrong.” 

“Baka! There’s nothing in that for me!” 

Iwa smirked, “Sure there is. You can explore this new side of you. It’s not like anyone would know. And if you suddenly wake up straight,” he snorted, unable to hide his own laughter, “You know, you can just,” he laughed again, “Call it a _phase_ and everything will go back to cherries and roses.” 

_Cherries and roses?_

Oikawa shifted in his seat. It was getting late. He should’ve been home by now. This was all just too much to think about. He wanted to be alone. 

“Hey.”

His head snapped up, Iwa’s eyes looking significantly darker. “Come here.” 

Tooru shifted again, his heart beating out of his chest in nervousness, but he did it anyway, walking over to Iwa. The tatted arm patted his thigh, motioning for Oikawa to sit down. And Oikawa did. 

“Last Friday,” Iwa said, “This is what happened. You came over and sat on me, and called me hot.” 

Oikawa blushed bright red, keeping his hands in small fists over his knees. “O-Ok.”

“And I figured what the hell, so I kissed you.” 

Oikawa nodded, keeping his gaze locked to the floor, but Iwa grabbed his chin again, more gently this time, making their eyes lock. Though it didn’t last long, because Iwa leaned in, and Tooru let him, and their lips brushed together for a moment, soft and sweet, Iwa rubbing Tooru’s chin with his thumb. 

“And I thought you were really fucking pretty.” 

Oikawa inhaled, but it was more of a gasp, because Iwa hadn’t _quite_ pulled away, so his lips still brushed against Tooru’s when he spoke, that smokey taste becoming something Oikawa _wanted_ to be addicted to. 

“Don’t call me pretty…” he murmured shyly, scanning Iwaizumi’s face, trying to see if he was joking, the way he usually was. 

But he wasn’t.

“I mean it, though. So go out with me.” 

“You don’t even know me,” Oikawa said, shaking his head, looking at the ground again, becoming fully aware of the fact that he was sitting on another guy’s _lap_ and he wasn’t even that bothered by it. Should he have been?

“But I want to.” Iwa said easily. 

Oikawa spread out his fingers, and then closed them in tight fists again. “I don’t know.” 

Iwa scoffed, plopping his head on Oikawa’s shoulder, holding his torso tightly, Tooru becoming increasingly aware of _just_ how strong those arms were. “Ahh, you’re such a mean guy.” 

Oikawa stiffened.

“I don’t handle rejection well, you know.” Iwa said, looking up, his face _way_ to close to Tooru’s.

“That’s not my problem!” Oikawa snapped, wriggling slightly, trying to get the male to loosen his hold. 

“You keep saying no but then you make that face. What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t make faces,” Oikawa said, really struggling now because Iwa had latched on and was _not_ letting go, “Just leave me alo—”

“Am I such a bad guy?”

“Yes,” Tooru began, “You smoke, and you have tattoos, and you finished school but not really, and you live in a place like this—”

“Hey! This is a decent apartment!”

“We’re from two completely different worlds!” 

Iwa smirked. “Like Aladdin and Jasmine, huh?” 

Oikawa blinked, before shaking his head, “What? No, just—”

“Go out with me.” 

Oikawa swallowed. What was he doing? At this rate, he’d never escape. To realize he’s gay and then suddenly start dating some random guy all in the same day? That was too much, even for him. “I…I’ll think about it.” 

Iwaizumi stood up, Tooru practically falling to the ground as a result. “No thanks.”

“What?” 

“I don’t have time for all that. Yes or no, right now.”

Oikawa trembled, before scrunching up his features, “Then no!” 

“Great. I’ll see you Saturday then.”

_ Saturday? _   What the hell did this guy  _want_ from him? He said he'd think about it, but suddenly that wasn't good enough? If anyone wasn't good enough it was  _him._  

“I said no!” 

Iwa grabbed him by the collar, smirking _way_ too much, Oikawa’s heart skipping a beat as he practically tumbled into him. His heart really needed to stop doing that. But Iwa's face was right in front of Tooru's, and he could feel his breath on his lips, could practically  _taste_ the smoke--

“You know you lick your lips when you’re lying?” 

“Wha-?”

Oikawa was let go abruptly, and he stumbled back a bit, almost falling against the kitchen counter.

“So I’ll pick you up,” Iwa said, reaching for the end of the table and lighting a cigarette, “Make a date out of it.”

Oikawa shook his head, “Look I’m not—if anyone finds out about me—“ Wait, had he just agreed to this?

Iwa blew out some smoke and shook his hand, “Relax. We’ll be with a group.”

Tooru crinkled his features. “A group? Doing what?”

Iwa grinned, letting out another lazy puff of smoke. “Volleyball.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little late on the update but please enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are they all…I mean…are they like you?” He had asked Iwa on the walk there.
> 
> “Whaddya mean?”
> 
> “You know,” Oikawa’s voice dropped, “Gay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please everyone bear with me. I know they don't all live in the same area but for the sake of this chapter let's just pretend they do XD Thank you~~

Oikawa had never felt so comfortably out of place in all his life. It was truly bizarre, that sort of thing. 

They met at a nearby park, not too far from Iwa’s apartment, close enough to walk, which Iwa said was good because they could eat right after. That suited Oikawa just fine, and though he’d been terribly nervous about meeting a group of delinquents, seeing them all face to face wasn’t such a bad thing. 

“Are they all…I mean…are they like you?” He had asked Iwa on the walk there.

“Whaddya mean?”

“You know,” Oikawa’s voice dropped, “ _Gay.”_

“I think you mean like _us.”_

Oikawa stiffened at that, turning his attention away. But Iwa just chuckled. “You realize that’s statistically impossible, right? We’re not the fucking Iron Ladies.”

“Iron Ladies?”

Iwa glanced him up and down, “It’s a…nevermind. Just don’t say anything stupid, when you meet them.” 

There was Tanaka, a loud guy with a scary expression and no hair, but as far as Oikawa could tell, he had no tattoos. The cashier from the other day was also there, who Oikawa learned was named Jason, wearing a round pair of sunglasses, a headband over his natural blonde hair. Another one introduced himself as Akaashi Keiji, with all the politeness in the world, and for a moment Tooru thought he’d finally met someone decent, until the young man rolled up his sleeves in preparation of the game, revealing the extensive tattoos that covered his arms in what Tooru guessed from his wrists all the way up to his shoulders. 

“It’s called a sleeve,” Iwa had explained, “Him and his girlfriend drew the pieces themselves.” Oikawa nodded, saying he knew that much at least, but still pressed his lips together at the sight of it. He wouldn’t call himself _prejudiced_ exactly, he’d always believed himself to be a very open-minded person, but for someone to cover themselves in ink like that, to have a partner do it no less, when they were only this young…it just seemed rather immature. What if you broke up? Wouldn’t their art only remind you of them? At the very least Iwa’s tattoo was only on the upper part of his arm, and could be easily hidden. So no, he wouldn't call himself _prejudiced,_ even after clicking his tongue at the sight of Akaashi's _sleeves._

Last but not least there was Terushima, a surprisingly handsome guy who, as far as Oikawa could tell, had no tattoos. But he did smoke, and had two piercings on his ear. Oikawa also quickly learned  that the young man had gone so far as to pierce his tongue. 

“For added pleasure,” he’d said, biting just behind the piercing, waggling his eyebrows and swirling his tongue around to show it off. Then, popping a cigarette in his mouth, he offered the open box to Oikawa.

“Ah. No thank you.” Tooru said politely, holding his hand up to decline the offer. He shifted awkwardly, realizing Iwa was no longer beside him.  

Terushima shrugged, before lighting the cig and blowing out a puff of smoke. 

“Soda.” Said a voice behind Oikawa, sounding very close.

Oikawa flinched slightly, turning to see the cashier from the day before. “What?”

“Before each game, your boyfriend goes to the vending machines to chug some soda. You were looking for him, right?” 

Oikawa stiffened, holding his hands up, “Ah, we’re not really—”

“Wahhh,” Terushima whined, “I was hoping you were single!”

“You know Iwa always gets the good ones,” Jason chuckled, taking the box of cigarettes from Terushima and putting one in his mouth too. 

“Well that’s true,” Terushima grinned, his eyes brightening as he looked at Oikawa, “But if you ever want a threesome—”

“The hell are you perverts talking about!” Iwa growled, pushing Terushima’s head down, and making him spit out the cigarette. 

“He’s trying to steal your boy,” Jason chuckled, grabbing the volleyball and tossing it around in his hands. 

“We’re not dating—” Oikawa interjected immediately, but was interrupted by Iwaizumi, who put his arm around Tooru’s shoulder.

“He’s real smart but struggles with basic concepts. Don't mind him.” 

Part of Oikawa wanted to snap. “I’m not—”

“Yo! The other guys are here!” Jason cheered, tossing the cig and crushing it with his foot, raising his hand to greet the opposing team. 

They were all introduced to Oikawa, this set of people seemingly more respectable, in terms of the way they shook his hand. First to do so was Sawamura Daichi, followed by Azumane Asahi. There was a shorter male by the name of Yaku Morisuke and one who boldly declared himself to be one of the bests aces in the country, Bokuto Koutarou. Then came Kuroo Tetsurou, a rather handsome looking guy minus his atrocious black hair, and behind him was Tsukishima Kei, who was introduced by Kuroo as ‘my boyfriend Kei.’ 

But the blonde didn’t seem to like that, Oikawa noticed, because he muttered something or other rather indignantly, making the bedhead run after him. 

Tooru ran all the names through his head, taking care to remember them all. It was a skill he was rather proud of, one which his father had been sure to instill in him at a young age. 

_People respond better. It’s a trick of the trade._

In the business world, there were quite a few tricks. But all thoughts of his father were quickly pushed away, since the other guys were starting to line up for the match. Before getting to the park, Iwa had given him a quick run through, so Oikawa knew the basic gist of the rules. 

“Just follow the rest of us,” is what he had said, so Tooru figured it’d be fine. But he wasn’t expecting the level of intensity that broke out the moment the ball flew for the first serve. This wasn’t just a fun get together between friends. They were all taking this incredibly seriously. And when the ball hit the ground for the first time, Oikawa flinched, startled by the sharp _snapping_ sound as it smacked the concrete, Jason letting out a grunted _tch_ and Iwa clapping his hands, bringing Oikawa back to the present, as he called out a _don't mind!_

This was _not_ as simple as just following along. Oikawa could keep watch of the ball, sure, but from the one time he’d hit it, and the secondthat he’d received, his wrists were _screaming_ in protest. Red and throbbing, crying out in dull pain. He definitely wasn’t used to that sort of strain. But if he complained, he knew he’d get poked fun at for being—

“Can’t handle it, pretty boy?” Terushima grinned, flashing him a wink.

From the other side of the net, Tsukishima snorted, “Says the pretty boy himself.” 

“Oh ho? Not so loud Megane-kun, Kuroo’ll get jealous~”

The blonde deadpanned. “He knows I have higher standards than you.” 

Terushima screeched in protest, before Iwa shouted from the back to _focus_ , because this match _wasn’t over yet_. 

They were all incredible players, but the most obvious to Oikawa was Iwa. The way he seemed to have sharpened his precision, jumping at just the right moment to Akaashi’s setups, bringing his palm down hard and spiking the ball into the ground, not giving the other team a chance to save it. And it was sort of…really incredible to watch. So much so that Oikawa found himself wishing he was the one sending tosses to Iwa, and not Akaashi. He swallowed thickly, realizing he was having strange thoughts. 

When the match _was_ over, it was to loud whines from Terushima, and snide, gloating remarks from Bokuto and Kuroo. Oikawa went to some nearby steps to take a breather, rubbing his hands and wrists. He was surprised when a water bottle was held in front of his face, and even more surprised to find that the one offering it was Tsukishima. 

“If you don’t try so hard,” he said, “It won’t hurt as much.” 

“Ah,” Oikawa nodded politely, stopping with his wrists and taking the bottle, “Thank you.” 

Tsukishima sat down beside him, a step lower, leaning against the wall as he sipped his own water. 

“Are you with Iwaizumi-san?” He said suddenly, with such a straight face that it sort of bothered Oikawa. 

“Not…exactly…”

Kei said nothing, but drank more water. “This sort of relationship,” he admitted, “Isn’t easy. I don’t blame you.” 

Tooru looked from the blonde to the makeshift volleyball court, where Kuroo and Bokuto were joking about something, putting Terushima in a headlock. 

“You and Kuroo-san seem close.” Oikawa offered. 

Tsukki glanced at him briefly, before bringing the water bottle to his lips again, “We’ve only just started dating.” He said casually. 

“Really?” Oikawa’s eyes widened.

“Mm.” 

“Well…you both really seem to care for each other.” 

The blonde stiffened, diverting his eyes, “Don’t tell Kuroo-san that. It’ll go straight to his head.” 

Oikawa giggled honestly at that, for a brief moment feeling a slight twinge of jealousy. 

“Kuroo and I…” Tsukishima began again, Tooru getting the feeling this guy generally didn’t talk so openly, “We’ve never done this before. But Iwa’s been with lots of guys, so you should take advantage of that.” 

Oikawa crinkled his features, looking at the blonde, “What do you mean lots of guys?” 

Tsukki raised his eyebrow in genuine surprise, before his lips curled into a smirk, “Woops. Said something I shouldn’t have.” 

The third year felt his stomach lurch, though he wasn’t sure why, turning to the blonde for more answers. 

But Tsukishima hummed, resting his chin in his hand, his elbows on his knee. “Kuroo-san was the lady-killer. Terushima worked both sides, and Iwa,” he turned to face Oikawa, “Well. You know how it is.” 

No, Oikawa _didn’t_ know how it was. How many people had Iwa been with, exactly? Were they all male? And how long did he date people, usually? Oikawa guessed it didn’t last very long, from the looks of it. 

Did Iwa…kiss all of his boyfriends, the way he kissed Oikawa? He shook his head, finding that all ridiculous. It’s not like he planned on kissing that guy again. 

The only reason he was here was because…

“Oy, Shittykawa! Let’s go!” 

Kei snorted, standing up and throwing his water bottle away. “That’s an endearing nickname.” 

“Ah, he’s not—”

“Firefly!” Kuroo called, standing next to Iwa, “What’re you doing all the way over there?!” 

Kei grumbled, walking over to the rest of the guys. “I told you not to call me that, Kuroo-san.” 

“Aw, but it suits you!”

“It does not.” 

Oikawa watched as Kuroo wrapped his arms easily around the blonde, poking his cheek and calling the younger male a ‘grump.’ 

“We can’t all be as energetic as Bokuto.” 

“It doesn’t take energy to _smile_ Tsukki~” 

“It actually takes quite a bit—”

“Aww come on~” the blonde was poked again, “I’ll buy you some cake on the way back.” 

Tsukishima’s eyes softened at that, and Oikawa felt a strange tugging at his chest he’d never quite felt before. 

But then he realized it was just Iwa tugging at his arm. 

Shaking his head, and coming back to his senses, Oikawa pulled his hand back, asking Iwa where they were going.

“Food.”

“What about everyone else?”

Iwa shook his head, “Akaashi’s got cram school, and Jason’s gotta get back to the shop. So we tend to split ways after games.” 

“Oh.” Oikawa said, nodding his head. 

Kuroo and Tsukishima…those guys…

Tooru didn’t say much on the way back, nodding his head at whatever Iwa said, only half listening. His conversation with the first year playing over and over in his head. 

_You should take advantage of that._

Advantage of what, exactly? Oikawa wasn’t even sure what that sort of thing was supposed to mean, let alone act upon it. And by the time they'd made it to the apartment, he was so lost in thought he was hardly able to savor the miso soup Iwa had made, poking at his rice and mindlessly drowning it in the broth. 

“What is it?” Iwa said finally, snapping him from his daydream. 

Oikawa _jolted,_ nearly dropping his chopsticks. “Nothing.” 

“You’re sulking.”

“I am not!” He nearly shouted, but then cleared his throat, swallowing quickly. That was bad. He sounded defensive. Even he could hear it. 

Iwa only smirked. “Ok, then.” 

That bothered Tooru. He wasn’t being pushy like usual. Wouldn’t he have kissed him by now? _You’re cute when you’re angry._ He’d said that, hadn’t he? Well, Oikawa was angry. With nothing to show for it. 

“Are you planning to string me along?” He said suddenly.

“What?”

“You said you like pretty faces. So what, you just trick me into being gay and have some fun till the next guy comes along?” 

“Ok first of all,” Iwa put his bowl down, “I didn’t _trick_ you into being gay what the fuck kind of—”

“Tricked or not that’s beside the point. I don’t really have time for relationships the way my life is right now. So I’m just letting you know that if you fall in love with me, it’s not my fault.” 

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. “If _I_ fall in love with _you?”_

Tooru held his gaze, keeping his head up, “I don’t really think we’re practical.” 

“Practical.”

Oikawa nodded. 

Iwa scoffed again, sitting at the end of the small table, taking a mouthful of rice. “Well,” he said between chews, “Doors right there.” He pointed with his chopsticks.

“So I _am_ just here to kill time!”

“The hell are you talking about—“

Oikawa stood up, his palms on the table, “Tsukishima—that guy— he said you—“ 

“Tsukki’s a salty little shit—”

“How many guys have you been with?”

Iwa’s eyes widened, before he smirked, his arms crossing, his elbows on the table. “Is _that_ was this is about?” 

Clenching his fists, Oikawa was just about ready to stomp away, the way he’d done the first time. But without fully realizing it, he grabbed at Iwa’s face, kissing him full on the lips, taking extra care to bite down _hard_ on his bottom lip. But he wasn’t counting on Iwa grabbing the back of his neck, pressing them closer together, Tooru half falling on the table, his right leg flying up, kicking the chair. 

“Mmnph…n-no…let go!” 

Iwa only held him tighter, smiling against Oikawa’s lips. “You’re too cute when you pout, you know?”

“Idiot, you’re—mmm!”

Iwaizumi forced his tongue in, brushing over Oikawa’s teeth, exploring the inside of his mouth in a way that made Tooru’s face more than just red.

“S-Stop,” he tried to push Iwa away, “No—Iwa-chan!” 

At that Iwaizumi _did_ pull away, so suddenly that Oikawa fell back, by some miracle stumbling into the chair, scraping slightly on the floor. 

“You called me Iwa-chan.” 

Oikawa reddened, putting his arm over his face. “No I didn’t!” 

Iwa went around the table, straddling Tooru in the chair.

“What are you—”

“You called me that, the first time too.” He leaned in, kissing Oikawa feverishly, and Tooru whimpered, but _only_ because he was surprised, and not because—

“Stay. Tonight.” Iwa breathed between kisses, messing up the back of Tooru’s hair with his thick fingers.

“I can’t,” Oikawa gasped, his skin ignited at the feel of Iwa’s thumb rubbing patterns into his side, “Not today—”

“Tomorrow—”

Oikawa shook his head, “Homework, and—”

“Fine,” Iwa _groaned,_ and oh _fuck_ if that wasn’t the most delicious sound Oikawa had heard _ever_. And suddenly, Oikawa realized that his hands were grabbing at Iwa’s short black hair, were _tugging_ at it even, as if his body was screaming _more_ , and Iwa seemed to understand at least that much, because he didn’t stop, just kissed him deeper, closed the gap between them, grinding Oikawa into the chair. 

Tooru didn’t know how long they were like that, hands roaming skin, tugging at shirts and teeth pulling at lips, Iwa licking and sucking along his collarbone, Oikawa shivering every time. And when Iwa began to suck on his neck, Tooru was too weak to protest, instead tugging at Iwa’s hair so that he could mark him too. 

The heat in his pants was aching, almost as bad as his swollen lips, but it was fine, somehow it was all _fine_ because every few moments Iwa would grind his hips and oh _gods_ it was so good, and somehow it was enough to sate him, at least long enough until the smoker would roll his hips again, and good _lord_ how could someone ever be this _warm?_

Oikawa had a fever. That had to be it. Because his head was foggy, and he could feel himself starting to sweat, and maybe that sort of thing should’ve been gross but it just _wasn’t_  because he wasn't really _sweating_ sweating and he just—

_“Iwa-chan…”_ He gripped at the back of his shirt, the fabric probably wrinkled by now, Iwa—

Iwa held him tighter, after he said that, kissed him deeper, pressed their lips together harder. Sooner or later, Oikawa thought, he'd definitely start to bleed. 

“Nee, Tooru,” Iwa pulled his lips away, but only to press their foreheads together, the ghost of his breath still on Oikawa’s lips. “What happens if I do fall in love with you?” 

Iwa’s eyes were large, gone completely black from the way his pupils seemed to be swallowing Oikawa in their gaze. And Oikawa’s eyes widened in turn, before shrinking in embarrassment, his heart skipping about ten beats. He shivered, though he didn't know why, his eyelids feeling hopelessly heavy. “I…I don’t know…”

Iwa bent down, kissed him again, swallowed Oikawa’s tongue. “I kind of…wanna find out…” 

It was strange, the way he said that. In a way that made Oikawa’s stomach lurch, but in a good way, or maybe it was just because his pants had gotten too tight, or maybe it was the way Iwa’s eyes were lidded, fluttering and weirdly honest, but Oikawa didn’t reply, _couldn’t,_ because he was scared, suddenly, so horribly scared because the answer had almost slipped past his tongue and parted his lips without his permission. But that sort of thing was a death sentence, wasn’t it? Because from this moment, it was all too obvious that this guy had him completely trapped. And Tooru didn’t want to know…didn’t want to find out what might’ve happened that night, how could've ended up, if he’d uttered the words _me too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN 84 YEARSSSSSSSSSSS. Ahhh Kurotsukki because I can't fucking help myself it seems. Lowkey role reversal from Control which I find particularly hilarious. IDK IN MY HEAD I JUST FEEL LIKE OIKAWA AND TSUKKI WOULD LOWKEY GET ALONG OK LEAVE ME ALONE. Comments are always greatly appreciated ^o^ Thanks for your patience on this one, I've been focusing mainly on my omegaverse series but I haven't abandoned this fic, I promise!
> 
> Me: Damn...they've kissed in every chapter so far...
> 
> Brain: Your point?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooru averted his eyes, looking at the soapy water in the sink. Iwa was always so goddamn blunt about things.

Iwaizumi Hajime tasted like smoke and soda. Like cigarettes and sweets. And somewhere along the way, Oikawa Tooru had gotten himself _quite_ addicted to it. To the sweat of his neck and the callous of his hands, because Iwaizumi was a mechanic, or in construction, or _something,_ Tooru didn’t know, couldn’t remember when they were in the heat of the moment like this, could hardly remember his own _name_ when they were like this, because Iwa—

_Tooru, look at me._

He wasn’t ever really left with a choice. And after quite a bit of this, Oikawa was getting used to it. Was actually getting pretty _good_ at it, if he did say so himself. Was starting to figure out what made Iwa react, what made those dark eyes go even darker. Was also starting to realize how sensitive his _own_ body was, or maybe Iwa was just too good at this sort of thing. Probably because he was always very blunt.

Which is what led to their first time. 

Tooru’s parents thought Iwaizumi Hajime was teaching Oikawa how to play baseball and volleyball. Which wasn’t _untrue,_ exactly. Tooru was just learning… _other_ things as well. 

And boy was he _learning_ things.

Denying it now was pretty pointless. Around Iwa, anyway. Because Oikawa Tooru was most definitely, very incredibly gay.

Not that he’d ever let anyone else know. But that made it more exciting somehow. Like Romeo and Juliet. 

Well…that was a tragedy ending in _death_ so probably a bad example. But still. The excitement was definitely there. When he was with Iwa, Tooru got to throw everything out the window, didn't have to be the Perfect President, didn't need to be the politically correct, well mannered, tamed son of a hospital executive. When he was with Iwa, Tooru could be...

After heavy makeout sessions, Iwa would light a cigarette and start on dinner, or pickup the dishes, depending on the order they’d decided on. 

This particular day, however, Iwa was left picking up the dishes, Oikawa grabbing at the hand towel to dry as usual. 

Iwaizumi rinsed the first one, handing it off to Tooru, speaking casually about something or other. Until he said _it._ Talking as if it were the most normal thing anyone could ever say. 

“I think we should have sex tonight.” 

The plate slipped through Oikawa’s fingers like water, shattering onto the floor, white porcelain splitting all over his socks. 

“Ah! I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t move,” Iwa said, patting his hands on his pants, “I’ll get the broom.”

Oikawa swallowed, watching Iwa’s movements as though everything had slowed down.  “You uhh…” Tooru chuckled, “You kind of caught me off guard…” He bit his lip, “I’ll pay for the plate.” 

Iwa scoffed, sweeping up the scattered pieces. “Idiot. That thing was like three bucks.” 

Oikawa swallowed. 

“Don’t want to?” Iwa said, looking up at Oikawa with _very_ dark eyes, broom still in hand. 

“Don’t want to what?” His throat felt dry. 

“Have sex.” 

Tooru averted his eyes, looking at the soapy water in the sink. Iwa was always so goddamn _blunt_ about things. “Shouldn’t we…I mean that sort of thing…”

“We’ve already blown each other—”

“Yes I know!” Oikawa practically screeched, “I was there!” 

Iwa chuckled, putting the broom away, and then walking back to wrap his arms around Oikawa. “Then?” 

“It’s not like with a girl,” Oikawa said, “You have to…to prepare and…”

“It’s not so bad.”

He reddened, his eyes widening, remembering that Iwa had been with other guys before. “W-Well that’s easy for you to say—”

“You can spend the night, can’t you? No school tomorrow.” 

Oikawa hesitated. Which he really shouldn’t have done, because that was the only thing Iwa needed to get the upper hand. 

This was bad. Sure Oikawa _wanted_ to. And yes it felt weird having to continuously cut things off right when they were getting into the thick of it, and they’d been going out—er..not _out,_ exactly— but they had been together for a decent amount of time now…three weeks? Almost a month? That’s how long people waited these days, right? So, it’s not that it didn’t make _sense_ , exactly…

But Tooru’s ass was at stake here. He’d looked up a while ago about all the preparations that went into that sort of thing. 

And it was fucking scary. 

Unless…Iwa would be the one to prepare him? Oikawa reddened at the thought. Oh god no no _no_ that was _beyond_ embarrassing. 

_My dick was so far up you ass you couldn’t breathe._

He’d said that once. Not true, of course. But that pretty much summed up Iwaizumi. And if that was his sex style then Tooru was fucking terrified. 

Because Oikawa Tooru enjoyed breathing immensely. 

“I don’t…” Oikawa stammered, “I didn’t bring anything with me…” 

“I’ve got lube.” 

_Of course he does._

“Ah, um, well, condoms…” That was stupid. If he had lube then he definitely had condoms. 

“I’m all out but,” Iwa returned to the sink, washing the last few plates, “I don’t really care if you come inside.” 

He knew it. A weak excuse like that wasn’t going to be enough to—

_ What. _

“Wait.” Oikawa just about dropped another plate, “Did you say if _I_ come inside?” 

Iwa looked at him, putting the dish on the rack, drying his hands on his pants and not quite meeting Tooru’s gaze. And Oikawa realized that was the first time he’d ever really seen Iwa get embarrassed. It was…kind of… 

“I mean...” Iwa rubbed the back of his neck, “Unless…”

Oikawa was excited now, the words tumbling from his lips before he had a chance to say otherwise, “So you’re a bottom?” 

Hajime pulled at the dish towel on Oikawa’s shoulder and then smacked him with it. 

“I’m not _a_ _bottom--_ it's our first time so I figured-- the fuck kind of BL shit are you reading?”

“I don’t read—!”

Oikawa was whipped again, his pulse spiking, feeling the adrenaline rush in his ears. And maybe it was stupid but he _squealed,_ the sudden excitement bubbling over and bursting out in weird sounds as Iwa chased him around with the rag, striking him wherever.

_ It's our first time... _

Was Iwa being considerate...for him?

This was stupid. It was so _stupid_ and _pointless_ and he was running for no _reason_ but goddamnit Oikawa felt so fucking _happy._

“No! Stop!” He hid behind a chair, faking movements, coming to a brief standstill.

“Oikawa Tooru reading gay H stuff. Who would’ve thought—”

“No I don’t—!” Iwa’s laughter was contagious, so Oikawa couldn’t help himself from joining in, making a quick run for it, “Iwa, no! Stop! Iwa-chan!” 

They tumbled over each other, falling to the floor in stupid laughter and hungry kisses. And they couldn’t stop laughing, their lips shaking against each other, each one swallowing the sounds of the other. And Iwa was heavy, but not _heavy_ because his weight was comfortable almost, even if it meant Tooru was being pinned down to the floor by it.

“You should call me that more.” Iwa breathed, finally. 

Oikawa was breathing heavy, his face pink. “Iwa-chan?” He questioned, cocking his head, taking in deep breaths. 

“Mm.” Iwa kissed him again, squeezing his sides. 

Tooru laughed at that, “Doesn’t suit a tough guy like you…” He murmured softly, turning his head away. And suddenly the weight of it all fell on him again. “I-Iwa-chan?” His face was fully flushed now, as Oikawa brought his knuckles up to his mouth. “Are we really…I mean…do you really want to…with me?” 

Iwa scoffed, rolling off Tooru and standing up, so Oikawa made to do the same, but was lifted off the ground instead, cradled in large, tattooed arms. 

“Iwa!”

“You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.” The delinquent grinned, carrying them into his room. 

“I-I’ll have you know I’m top of my class—”

“Yeah, well,” Iwa tossed him on the bed rather roughly, Oikawa letting out a strangled _mmph_ as his back met the mattress. 

“Now I’m gonna top you.” 

Oikawa _squeaked,_ suddenly terrified again, telling Iwa to _stop stop stop_ when those hands started at his pant buttons. 

“You wanna undress yourself?”

“Um…”

Iwa shrugged, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head, “Fine by me.” 

_Oh._

Oh _god._ Oikawa had _felt_ those muscles during their makeout sessions of course, had certainly _imagined_ what they might look like, but _seeing_ them now was like—

“Oy. Come on, what’re you waiting for? You’re not shy, are you?” Iwa grinned, leaning in close. 

“I’m fine!” Oikawa stammered, sitting up and taking off his own shirt. He knew he wasn’t anywhere near Iwa in terms of muscle. He went to the gym, sure. But Iwa was…

“Ow!” Iwa pinched at his nipple, snapping him out of his daydream.

“You say that,” Iwa said, pinching it again, “But you like it.” 

“I do not!” Oikawa pouted defiantly. 

“Tooru,” Iwa leaned in close, _really_ close, his lips just over Oikawa’s, “You’re making that face again.” 

“I…” Oikawa hesitated, darting his eyes around, “I don’t make…faces…” 

Iwa kissed him, because he knew better, using the distraction to free them both of their pants, until they were left with nothing but hot skin against hot skin, rubbing and grinding against each other. 

“Ha,” Iwa held their lengths together, bucking his hips, while he sat in Tooru’s lap, “Fuck you’re all wet right here.”

Oikawa bit the back of his hand, clutching at Iwa’s shoulder with the other, “So are you, stupid.” 

Iwa smiled at that, kissing Oikawa’s cheek. Tooru shivered, his head tossing back slightly the more Iwa rubbed them together, the more Iwa grunted into his neck, and _fuck_ Iwa was sucking now, and even if Oikawa couldn't hide the marks he didn't really care anymore, just wanted-- 

Iwa pulled away. And Oikawa whined. 

“I don’t want you to cum yet.” Iwa said with a flirty grin, which quickly faded into embarrassment. “Um. I’ll be back.” 

Oikawa blinked, following Iwa with his eyes, suddenly feeling _very_ naked. “W-Wait! Where are you going?” 

“Toilet.” 

“Oh.” Oikawa grabbed at the sheets, trying to cover himself, at least a bit. “ _Oh.”_ He whispered to himself, covering his mouth with his hand and coming to realization. 

Oikawa couldn’t just… _stick it in._ Iwa had to…he was probably in there…

Shouldn’t he…help? Did Iwa not want him to help? Sure, that was probably embarrassing. But it could also be kind of hot? Tooru licked his lips, realizing it was something he _wanted_ to do. 

“Iwa-chan!!!” He banged at the bathroom door, still clutching to the sheet, which was dumb, since he could’ve just grabbed a shirt or something.

“What the hell—”

“I can— I mean— I can help!” 

“Tooru get the _fuck_ away from the door.” 

But Oikawa just slumped against it, feeling particularly useless, until he fell face first into the bathroom floor, because Iwa had opened the door. 

“Ow…jeez…” Tooru sat up, coming face to face with Iwa’s dick. He swallowed. “Oh. I…uh…”

“Jesus Christ don’t be such a virgin,” Iwa tugged at his arm, pulling him up, leading them to the bed again. “There's better lube in the first drawer.” He said, pointing to it.

Oikawa nodded, fumbling, nearly falling because the sheets had tangled around his legs. Iwa chuckled, low and deep, and it was almost enough for Oikawa to drop the bottle. “No need to get _that_ nervous,” he untangled the sheets, purposely touching as much of Oikawa’s legs as possible, “Just do it how you would with a girl.” 

That would’ve been _great_ advice, except Oikawa Tooru had no idea what the hell sex was like with _anyone._

“Sure,” he nodded, “Right.” He popped open the cap, squeezing a shitton of lube into his hand. 

_Crap what now?_

This stuff was sticky. He rolled his fingers around, wondering if this is what happened to girls when they got wet. 

“Tooru?” 

“HUH?” _Fuck, did he just yell?_

Iwa’s eyes widened, and he sat up, grabbing Oikawa’s shoulders and pinning him down on the bed. “Oh my god. You aren’t just _acting_ like a virgin—you _are_ one aren’t you?” 

“Get off!” Tooru struggled, though he didn’t really know _why_ and his fingers just felt so goddamn _sticky_ and Iwa had that _stupid_ look on his face, “We can’t all be like you! I’m—”

Iwa kissed him, slow and deep, moving Oikawa’s lubed up hand to his cock, moving his hand for him. Tooru shuddered at the feel of it, jerking himself off, but with Iwa guiding his wrist was…sort of… _fuck._

“You’re giving me less and less self control, you know?” Iwa said, grabbing some of the lube, bringing his hand around so that he could—

Oikawa swallowed, thinking he might faint. Because the image of Iwa fingering himself was a really fucking sexy one.

“Just this once,” Iwa positioned himself over Oikawa, and Oikawa had to look away, because the sight of it was a bit _too_ much for his already burning ears, “I’ll be a good little cock slut for you. How’s that sound?” 

Oikawa just about choked, his eyes widening, snapping his attention back to Iwa. “A cock what—” Iwa slid down, cutting Oikawa off, his body _jolting._ Had he…was it suppose to slide in that easily?

Iwa _groaned,_ and _fuck_ Oikawa couldn’t think of anything else. 

Inside of Iwa…it was so… _warm_ …

“You watching, Tooru? You’ll have to find my good spots on your own after this.” 

He whimpered, nodding weakly in reply because Oikawa didn’t know what else he was supposed to fucking do, but he was pretty much already at his limit, and from the looks of it Iwa wasn’t going to stop until he wrung him dry—

“Tooru.” 

“Wah?” Shit, was his mouth open? Had it been open this whole time? Iwa grabbed his hand, and Tooru felt a sudden _heat,_ Iwa’s length hard and hot and _wet_ and _fuck—_

“Look at me.” 

Fuck.

“Up and down. There’s a good boy. Make me feel good too.” 

Iwa just _groaned,_ sounding so fucking _satisfied_ , and he was smirking, the bastard, how could he smirk with those _sounds_ all around them, getting louder and louder the harder Iwa bounced on Tooru’s cock, Oikawa trying to keep up the pace with his hand, jacking Iwa off. 

“Tooru. You movetoo.” 

How could he? Oikawa was freaking trembling so much he could hardly do anything. Had he cum already? He didn’t know. If he did that would’ve been embarrassing. But he bucked his hips anyway, because Iwa told him to, and when Iwa stiffened, Oikawa did it again, and Iwa _jolted_ that time, and something snapped in Tooru, because he wanted—no, he _needed_ — to see that face again— wanted to—

“You gonna cum from your ass?” Now Oikawa couldn’t help but smirk, grabbing at Iwa’s hips, sliding down just a little lower, helping him with his movements, because now, suddenly Oikawa felt like he had the upper hand, which generally didn’t happen, and damn it felt _great_ —

“Ha,” Iwa was panting, those thick thighs trembling agains’t Tooru’s hips, “If you’re good enough.”

* * *

 

Oikawa didn’t know how many times they did it after that. How Oikawa had lost _both_ his virginities that night, how it didn’t matter because Iwa was so _gentle,_ and it didn’t suit such a big guy like him, it really didn’t, but maybe it was because Oikawa had been so scared, trembling like a kid, telling Iwa he really wasn’t sure. 

“Ok but…if it hurts…”

“I’ll be gentle—”

“I just really don’t like pain…”

“If it hurts,” he had promised, kissing his lips, “I’ll stop.”

But Oikawa didn’t have to tell him to stop, just had to beg him to _keep going_ because _gods_ Iwa _definitely_ knew what he was doing, and Oikawa just hoped he’d been half as good when he was on top, because even if it was just a little bit he wanted Iwa to feel it as much as he had and—

His hips had never hurt so much as the morning after. But even then, Iwa had been sweet, bringing him coffee—black, the way Oikawa liked it— saying he could stay or maybe even have a bath and a bath with Iwa sounded like the best thing in the world at the time. And Oikawa knew he had about a million bites all over his chest, but it didn’t matter—nothing mattered— because Iwa was there, looking at him with dark eyes and brushing Oikawa’s bangs back for him, telling him his coffee tasted like shit.

Because Iwa was a big believer in sugar and cream. 

“You have a sweet tooth, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa had whispered that morning, though there was no real reason to whisper in the first place. 

“Mm,” Iwa said, pecking his lips, “Probably why I like you.” 

And Oikawa had nothing to say to that, because he thought it worked out really well, that Iwa preferred sweet things, because even though Oikawa preferred bitter coffee, he also really enjoyed the sugar of soda that always seemed to be present on Hajime’s lips. 

After that first time, it was like they couldn’t stop, sometimes Oikawa needing those rough kisses, sometimes Iwa needing that soft skin. Their bodies met again and again, maybe because they were indulging in the heat, maybe something more, Oikawa didn’t know, didn’t care—hoped for both, was almost sure it was both— and with winter quickly approaching they really had the best of excuses, saving each other from the cold. 

It was on a particularly cold day, warmth radiating through Iwa’s small apartment, Oikawa’s legs tangled lazily in the sheets like usual, his hips sore with the familiar ache of Iwa’s lust. That feeling was the sort of thing Oikawa loved most. That, and dragging his fingers over Iwa’s chest, drawing random patterns, sometimes tracing the edges of his tattoo. 

Iwa chuckled, low and deep, his voice heavy with post-sex daze. “You always do that.” 

Oikawa didn’t even realize what he meant, until he stopped his hand, pressing it flat against Iwaizumi’s chest. “I just like your skin.” He blushed softly, which was dumb, since there was really no need to be embarrassed after all this time. But Iwa laughed again, and Oikawa felt his stomach flip. Finding his nerve, and swallowing thickly, he met his lover in the eye. “Iwa.” 

“Mm?” Iwa brushed Oikawa’s hair back, tucking one of his curls behind his ear. “Your hair’s growing out again.” 

A light pink dusted the tops of Tooru’s cheeks, but still, he didn’t look away. 

Tooru exhaled. “My father’s hosting a holiday banquet for the hospital next week. I was hoping…” he intertwined his fingers with Iwa, “I was wondering if you’d come with me.” 

Iwa stiffened, gripping at Oikawa’s hand. “I don’t think I’m really fit for that sort of thing.” 

“There’s nothing much to it,” Oikawa blurted, “It’s just a bunch of boring people. The food is good…” 

Iwa hesitated, cocking his head slightly, “You want me to meet your parents?” 

Oikawa stiffened, suddenly unable to look at him, “Not…like that…I just mean…well it’s boring and I thought if you were there…you don’t have to…” 

Iwa cleared his throat, shifting a little closer to Tooru. “I don’t really…have a suit…or anything like that.” 

Oikawa sat up in a rush. Because that wasn’t a _no._ “Oh! I can get you one!”

“You don’t—”

“No it’s fine! We have one of the best tailors in all of Japan!”

“That sounds expensive—”

Oikawa waved his hand at him, shaking his head, “Not at all! Think of it as an early Christmas present! Please?” His eyes were big, and Iwa swallowed again, because he was particularly weak to those eyes. 

“I really want you there…” Oikawa blushed, looking away in embarrassment, even the tips of his ears going pink now. 

_ How was Iwa supposed to say no to that?  _

“Don’t get mad when I look better than you.” He smirked, brushing Tooru’s hair back again. 

Oikawa smirked back at him, and Iwa thought that maybe they were starting to pick up each other’s habits. “As if.” 

Iwa scoffed, bumping their heads together, “Let’s do it then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brain: They need to fuck.  
> Me: No, it's still too soon--  
> Brain: No they gotta fuck.  
> Me: By god you're right. 
> 
> I regret nothing. You guys know I'm all about the smex scenes and this one was left a bit wanting, so I hope you all know what that means ;) Comments are always very much appreciated! Thanks all!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Leave him alone,” Kuroo flopped down on the couch, spreading his arms out and taking up more space than necessary, “He doesn’t even realized how in love he is.”

“Just as long as you guys are gone by dinner.”

“ _Whpshhhhh!”_ Kuroo flicked his wrist to mimic a whip, pushing his way through the front door. 

“By dinner? The hell?” Jason followed in after, tailed by Terushima and Akaashi. 

“Cuz that’s when his _boy-friend_ gets here.” Terushima jeered, sticking his tongue out at Iwa. 

“ _Whpshhh!_ ” Kuroo cracked again, right in Iwa’s face, “Whipped!” 

“Kuroo you’d literally move to Siberia if that kid told you to so shut the fuck up.” 

“And I would do so gladly,” Kuroo grinned, placing his hand on his chest in earnest. 

“Laaaaameee,” Jason hollered, high-fiving Terushima, “Y'all are weak.” 

“You’re one to speak, Terushima.” Akaashi said in an even tone, pulling out his sketch book. 

“Excuse me?” Terushima put his hands on his hips, sticking out his tongue, “I’ll have you know I get _mad_ bitches.” 

Kuroo _snorted_ at that, Iwa joining him in cackling. “Yeah. Sure.” Kuroo said between not-so-suppressed giggles.

“Til you get a boyfriend,” Iwa added, “Then it’s all _Daddy please—”_

“For the last time I don’t have a daddy kink you fuckers!” 

Jason laughed obnoxiously, tossing himself on the couch by Akaashi. But then he cocked his head, looking at the gloomy artist. “What’s got you down?” 

“His girlfriend’s in America.” Kuroo answered for him, grabbing a drink from the kitchen.

“Thanksgiving.” Akaashi elaborated. 

Terushima scrunched up his features, taking his place on the floor and pulling out his box of cigs. “Why aren’t you in America then, Jason?” 

The blonde shook his head, “Never celebrated that shit. My parents say it’s an insult to the Native Americans. Plus they don’t eat meat so—”

“Well whatever,” Terushima shrugged, “Akaashi watcha—“

“Oy!” Kuroo came hollering into the small living room, swinging around a soda, “Get this—”

Iwa was tailing close behind, “ _Shut up,_ Kuroo—”

“Iwa’s going to a _ball._ We’ve got our very own Cinderella.” 

“It’s not a _ball_ you dipshit,” he snarled, snatching the soda away, “It’s a _banquet.”_

Jason snickered, “I’m not sure it’s that much better, dude.” 

Iwa slapped him upside the head. 

“I think it’s charming Iwa is doing this for Oikawa-san.” 

Kuroo chuckled again, “Hear that Iwa, you’re Prince Charming—”

“Dude, are you sure you know what you’re getting into? I mean that guy—”

“Who cares?” Terushima cut Jason off, “That guy’s hot as fuck. I bet he screams like an angel.” 

Iwa smirked, smacking hands with Teru, “Damn straight.” 

“Ok but seriously,” Jason leaned forward, “What’s gonna happen when he graduates? Even if he were a girl it’d be a problem—”

“Bro, let him live. Don’t be fucking depressing.” Teru fiddled with his lighter, trying to get a spark.

“Yeah, let’s _not_ talk about graduation,” Kuroo said, with a grin that wouldn’t have given him away, if it weren’t for the way he anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. 

Jason scoffed, “That’s what you get for dating a _first_ year—”

“Tsukishima is rather mature for his age—” Akaashi tried, but was interrupted by Terushima, “Mature? Is that what you call having a stick up your ass these days?”

“You mean _Kuroo’s_ stick up his ass—” Iwa starting to snicker, but Kuroo got a dark look suddenly, smiling in a way that was not at all friendly. 

“I will beat the absolute _fuck_ out of all of you.” 

“Kowai…” Jason whispered, snickering with Teru. 

“Oy!” 

Iwa slapped Kuroo hard on the back, “Chill dude. How long’s it been since you’ve gotten laid?” 

Kuroo hesitated, looking at the group in front of him. “We’re just…waiting…for a good…time…” 

“Dude!” Jason burst out, “You’re more whipped than Iwa is! At least he's getting some--” 

“I am not! I just respect—”

“I think it’s charming.” Akaashi said again, in a calm voice that made anyone wonder how he was heard at all.

“There we go!” Teru shouted, “Two prince charmings ready to go!” 

Iwa punched him. 

“Ok but seriously,” Jason began, laughing at the fact that Teru was trying to act like the punch didn’t hurt, “You’re meeting his parents and all. That’s sorta serious.”

“It’s not. He just didn’t wanna be bored. You know people like that are always hosting shit like this.” Iwa countered. 

“Sure, sure,” Teru said hesitantly, “But his parents _will_ be there.”

“Well it’s _their_ banquet so no shit.” 

“Iwaizumi,” Akaashi said seriously, “That is a rather large step. I think what we all mean to say is that we’re happy for you.”

Iwa took another swig of his soda, clearing his throat. “It’s not that big of a deal.” 

Teru smiled slyly, “He _likes_ you.”

"Yeah--"

"And you like him~" Jason added, joining Teru in his mischievous grin.

“Well that’s the fucking point, isn’t it?” 

“Leave him alone,” Kuroo flopped down on the couch, spreading his arms out and taking up more space than necessary, “He doesn’t even realized how in love he is.”

Iwa's heart beat so loud it almost felt like he was underwater, the sounds of the room heavy and muted. 

“I don’t know man,” Jason said, before Iwa had a chance to reply, “Being with a dude seems like way more trouble than a girl. Y’all make me glad I’m straight.” 

“If you ever wanna try guys though—”

“Teru why are you such a fucking slut?” 

Iwa and Kuroo burst out at that, spitting soda all over the living room. 

“I’m just _comfortable_ with who I am!” He defended, blowing raspberries at Jason. 

“Bro stick your tongue out at me one more time imma rip that piercing out.” 

Akaashi snorted at that, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his giggles. 

The rest of the afternoon continued much in the same fashion, the group arguing over just _who_ ate all the chips, Akaashi trying to sketch through the mad rush of voices, Teru trying to get them all to watch a game show that really wasn't all that funny. And it went by so quickly; Iwa going back and forth between the couch and kitchen, making sure his curry didn't burn, making sure those guys didn't eat all of his goddamn chex mix, which they _did,_ but whatever, because that sort of thing was bound to happen anyway so he should've expected it. But with all the talk of relationships, and bets on just _when_ Kuroo would finally get more than an embarrassed handjob, Iwa didn’t come to realize that it was already six o’clock until the doorbell rang. And he knew that it was, in fact, six o'clock on the dot. Because Oikawa was nothing if not punctual. 

“Fuck.” 

“Oh, someone’s gonna be in trouble~” Kuroo teased. 

“Shut up,” Iwa said, heading for the door. 

When he opened it, he was greeted by a large smile, Oikawa’s hands in his coat pocket. “Hey!”

“Wassup!” Jason called from the couch. 

Oikawa’s expression faded into one that was a bit of a panic. “Oh. Sorry I thought—”

“It’s fine,” Iwa said, pulling him inside, “They were just leaving.” 

“I don’t really remember saying we were leaving, do you Kuroo?” Terushima grinned.

“Why no, not at all.” Kuroo grinned back, looking at Iwa with beaming eyes. 

Iwa glared at him, “Imma tell blondie you said he takes it up the ass.” 

“Well what do you know!” Kuroo said, slapping his hands on his knees and standing up off the couch, “It seems it’s time to go!” 

Jason and Terushima flicked their wrists at the same time, “Whpssssshhhhh!!!

“Yuuji I will whip you upside the head—”

Akaashi laughed, closing his notebook and then holding his hand out to Oikawa, which he shook. “Good to see you again, Oikawa-san.” 

“Likewise.” He returned with a charming smile. 

“We gotta play some more! You’d give Akaashi a run for his money!” Jason said, finishing off his soda as he stood up, stretching his arms out. 

Oikawa looked from Jason to Akaashi nervously, “I’m sorry—what?”

“He means you’d make a good setter.” 

“Oh.” Oikawa folded his hands over his lap, “Thank yo-” It was cut short though, because Kuroo slapped him on the back, “Good to see you again! Next time, yeah? We should all hang out.”

“Yeah,” Tooru smiled weakly, “Definitely.” 

With that Iwa ushered them all out, a few more bickering words exchanged before the door shut closed. The moment it did, Iwa gave a little exhale of relief. 

“Sorry for coming so suddenly,” Oikawa said, sitting on the arm of the couch, not bothering to take his school bag off, “I wouldn't have—”

“No, they weren’t supposed to stay for so long.”

“Oh.”

Iwa glanced at him, picking up the empty bottles. “You don’t like them.”

“It’s not that!” Oikawa said quickly, practically lunging forward, “I just…I’m not used to people being so loud.” _Or crude,_ he thought, considering the way those guys talked. He'd been to a few more games with Iwa, because they really were fun, but he still wasn't completely comfortable around his boyfriend's friends. Tooru felt his cheeks warm up, thinking it was stupid to still be doing that every time he thought of Iwa as his _boyfriend._ He shook his head, brushing his thoughts away with a nervous chuckle, “Ah, but it’s refreshing!”

Iwa shrugged, tossing the bottles into the trash. 

Tooru cringed. “Should I go?”

Iwa stopped, looked up at him with crinkled features. “Why?”

Oikawa tugged at the fabric of his pants. “No, I just…I feel bad. Like I cut your guys’ time short or something.”

Two heavy steps were heard on the apartment floor, before Iwa was right next to Oikawa, ruffling his hair. “You seriously worry too much, you know that?” 

“I guess—”

“You always come over on Fridays, right?”

Oikawa gripped the strap of his school bag, thinking that maybe they were hanging out a bit too often, when Iwa said it like that. Coming over on Fridays meant spending the night on Fridays. Which bled into Saturday. Which bled into... 

“Do you...not want—”

Iwa flicked his forehead, “ _Ba-ka._ It’s my fault for not getting them out of here on time.” 

His heart raced at that, beating at his chest. But something was still bothering him. Like maybe he should have done something to try and get along better with those guys. “Well, they could have…stayed for dinner…” Oikawa tried, “That way—”

“Like hell I’m gonna feed that many people! Besides…” Iwa looked away suddenly, muttering to himself, “This is our time…so…”

Oikawa’s heart fluttered upon hearing that going from rapid beats to flickering _ba-dumps_. “Yeah,” he smiled, “That’s true.” He leaned in, stretching a bit to reach Iwa from the couch, and Iwa bent down, expecting a kiss, but Oikawa simply nuzzled his nose against Iwa’s instead. 

The smoker flushed at that, before quickly recovering with one of his signature smirks. “You’re so gay, Oikawa Tooru.” 

Oikawa’s smile only grew, as he wrapped his arms around Iwa’s neck lazily, and Iwa wrapped his arms around Tooru’s back. “I guess I am.” 

Iwa scoffed, leaning in for a real kiss this time, which Oikawa accepted gratefully, taking the opportunity to tug at the smoker’s lips with his teeth. 

“Nee, Iwa-chan.”

“Mm?”

“What’s for dinner~?” 

Iwa thought Tooru looked like a puppy, wagging his tail in anticipation, ears all perked up and eyes gleaming because _food?_

“Jeez, is that all you use me for?” He chuckled, pushing him away and heading towards the kitchen. Oikawa let his bag drop, hugging Iwa from behind and hindering his steps while he whined into his back. “But Iwa-chan makes the best food!” 

“Coming from a Prince like you, I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“Mm? Prince?" Oikawa smirked, "Then is Iwa-chan my knight?” 

Iwa trudged along, still trying to get them both into the kitchen while Tooru clung to him, not doing much to help. “Sure. Whatever.” 

“Yay!” Oikawa nuzzled into his back, upon which Iwa felt his heart do a little _skip_ thing that he wasn’t really used to. It’d only started happening after he met this guy, but it wasn’t something he was entirely opposed to either. So mostly he just let it happen. 

“So! My faithful knight! What shall we haveth for dinner?” 

Hajime scoffed, shaking his head and lowering the heat on the stove, having finally made it into the kitchen. “Curry.”

Oikawa looked at him curiously. “Curry?” 

“Never had any?”

Tooru shook his head.

_Typical rich kid._

“Well,” Iwa said, popping off the lid, enjoying the look Oikawa got on his face any time Iwa presented him with food he’d made. He liked to think it was a look only he had ever seen before. Smiling to himself, he reached for a spoon, dipping it in the curry and then giving it a cooling blow. “Open up,” he told him, offering the spoon, “You’re in for a treat.”

Oikawa made an  _ahh_ sound, opening his mouth and taking the spoon between his lips. His eyes widened, before his cheeks warmed, and his eyes crinkled with a humbled and honest smile. "Wa-shaan! Delishioush!"

That was it. That was the look. The one that made Hajime want to cook Tooru dinner for the rest of forever. Because with those big brown eyes, shining at him like that...

How could he not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaahhh sorry for the late update! Holidays and all! But it's almost vacation :D Guys I love Teru so much lolol. Comments are always greatly appreciated ^o^ Thanks all!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “C’mere.”
> 
> “What?” He nearly tripped over his own legs, he was dragged into the kitchen so brusquely. 
> 
> “You look like you need a cookie.”

Stumbling over each other seemed to be what they did best. Not that Oikawa was particularly _opposed_ to that, but they had just picked up Iwa’s suit, and if they weren’t careful—

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru giggled, gasping for air, “Stop—your suit—“

In moments like these, Iwa’s kisses were more teeth than anything else, especially with the way his eyes blackened, his grip against Tooru’s waist making it hard to breathe in the best way. 

“I don’t care.”

Gods. That gruff voice was going to murder him one day.

“No, you—” Tooru laughed again, craning his neck away because Iwa’s tongue was ticklish against his skin, but the act in itself wasn't exactly enough to stop him. Finally, Oikawa pushed him away, creating some distance between them. 

With all the care in the world, Tooru walked over to the couch, setting the tux down carefully. “Otherwise we’ll have to get it pressed again.”

Iwa grabbed him from behind, grumbling into Oikawa’s shoulder, “It’s fine now, right?” He tugged at his earlobe with his teeth.

_Insatiable,_ Tooru thought, even as the shivers ran down his spine. “Y-Yeah, well—”

Iwa didn’t let him answer, instead decided to fall back, effectively plopping them both on the couch, missing the suit by a mere miracle. 

Oikawa Tooru’s boyfriend was an animal. 

“Stop,” Tooru giggled, Iwa’s hair tickling his neck, “The suit—”

“It’s fine—”

“It’s _not_ fine—”

Iwa tightened his grip, shifting slightly so that Tooru was sitting properly in his lap, long legs sprawled out on the couch and Iwa’s hands firmly claiming Oikawa’s ass.

“You,” Tooru scolded him between kisses, “Always treating me like a girl.”

“How so?”

“I’m always in your lap!”

Iwa smirked, holding him down and rubbing against him, leaning in for another kiss. “Maybe I just like the way your ass feels on my c—”

“So crude!! 

Iwa grinned wildly, brining him into a sloppy kiss, “You love that I am.”

Tooru smiled at that, licking Iwa’s tongue with his own, reveling in that smoky taste he’d gotten so hopelessly addicted to. As good as it tasted, though, it always poked at Tooru, that sliver of guilt he got, enjoying the taste that came from something so… _wrong._

Would Iwa still taste like Iwa, without the cigarettes? 

It was something he thought about a lot more than he probably should have. Not that it bothered him in particular, exactly. It used to, before. But now it was just…part of who Iwa was. 

And Oikawa had no problems with the way Iwa was. 

But if they were going to meet his parents…

Not that Oikawa was planning to tell his parents they were dating. This banquet was definitely not the time nor the place for that. But they _would_ be meeting Iwa for the first time. And as his mother had drilled into his head, first impressions were _everything._

His mother would probably be able to catch the smoke on Iwa’s breath. Because as loving as his mother was she was an absolutely _terrifying_ woman. 

Which was exactly why this meeting had to go better than perfect. Because once Oikawa _did_ come out…

He didn’t like thinking about it. But at the same time, he couldn’t help it. 

It’d be a shock, naturally. That their son was dating a man. 

It’d be an even bigger shock to find out said man has a tattoo on his arm. And drinks in the mornings. And smokes a pack a day easily. And rides a motorcycle which _are the most dangerous things man has ever created,_ according to Tooru's mother. 

Maybe he shouldn’t tell them any of that until after. 

Until _much_ after. 

Oikawa was snapped back to the present moment, Iwa’s rough hands working to slip under his shirt. He shivered, placing his own hands over Iwa’s. 

“Mmm…Iwa-chan…”

“Hm?” Iwa muttered carelessly, still going in for more kisses. 

“Do you think you’ll stop smoking?” 

Iwa pulled away slightly, making a face. “Where’d that come from?”

“I was…just thinking…” Oikawa mumbled. 

“You don’t like it?"

Tooru pecked his nose, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. “No I…it’s just bad for you, that’s all.”

“I know.”

“A-And if you think about it, it’d be easier to quit sooner rather than later—”

“Tooru.”

He smiled with worried eyes, “Yeah?” 

“I’m not gonna quit.” 

Oikawa made a face, “Well, if you—”

Iwa kissed him again, softer than before. "Don't say something like you'll break up with me if I don't."

Tooru blushed, feeling his heart pound. Iwa said that almost too easily. "I wouldn't go that far…” He assured. 

But Iwa already seemed lost in thought; anxious, almost, rubbing his thumb into Tooru’s side, "Lots of people smoke. It's not a big deal.”

"I know."

Iwa lifted his brow curiously, "Then?"

Oikawa shook his head. "Nothing I just," he squeezed at Iwa’s shoulders, "I'm just worried about you, that's all.”

“Because you’re gonna be a doctor, right _Sensei_?”

There was something delicious about the way Iwa had drawled out the word _sensei._ But this was no time to be distracted. 

“It’d just…it’d probably be bad…if you were smoking—I mean if you smelled like smoke—it’ll be mostly doctors at the—and my mom--”

Iwa held his hand up. “I get it.” 

“You do?”

“That’s what chewing gum is for.” He said smartly, as though he’d solved all their problems. 

Oikawa smiled, though his face deadpanned. “Yeah…I guess…” 

Iwa chuckled, “You worry too much.” 

“Well this is important!” 

“How so?”

“My parents—”

“It’s not like you’ve told them you’re gay,” Iwa rolled his eyes, “I really don’t think they’ll care.” 

Tooru swung his legs off the couch, standing up and trying to bite back his bitterness, “It’s not that simple. My parents aren’t carefree like that.” 

“What’s the problem?” 

“If they see you like that they won’t want me around you anymore!” 

Iwa laughed, “Jeez, how old are you? You can make your own decisions—”

He'd heard all of that before. From multiple people. Goody-two-shoes-Tooru. And he'd always managed to just brush it off. But hearing it from Iwa's mouth...

It pissed him off.

Oikawa balled up his fists, before grabbing his bag. “I’m going home.” 

“Hey,” Iwa lunged for him, grabbing him by the wrist. “Ok. I get it. Your parents are strict.” 

“It’s fine.” Oikawa said, “Just, whatever.” 

“Hey, come on. I won’t get it if you don’t tell me.” 

Tooru looked at him, sighing softly. That wasn't fair. Iwa always knew how to win. Always incredibly patient when Oikawa became irrational. Some might even say _dramatic,_ but, well...

Iwa was a good guy. 

“Well…" Oikawa smiled, bringing up his hand to cover it, "I guess you _are_ kind of stupid—”

“ _Oy—”_

Tooru laughed again, shaking his hands, “Ok, ok, I’m sorry. But,” he took Iwa’s hand, linking their fingers, “First impressions are important in my family. That’s all. And I know I haven’t told them yet, but I will one day, and…” 

_ And I want them to like you. _

Iwa kissed his cheek. “You really do worry too much.”

“I’m being serious—”

“I know,” Iwa threw back his thumb, “But with that suit you got me your parents are gonna think I’m the next president of some fancy pancy company. So I think we’re fine for now.” 

Tooru chewed his cheeks. “Ok…”

Iwa nuzzled him, “You still going to leave?”

Tooru muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Iwa nuzzled some more, tickling Oikawa with his breathless kisses, “I couldn’t hear you…”

Oikawa was giggling, trying to push him off but not really, saying that no, he wouldn’t leave, he _wouldn’t_ so please Iwa-chan _stop—_

“Besides,” Iwa added, “You said you were gonna help me with dinner.” 

Oikawa’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! I wanna learn how to cook!” 

Iwa nodded, “Let’s go then—”

“Ah,” Oikawa tugged him back, “Iwa-chan.” 

“Yeah?”

“When you do,” he blushed, “Meet them…” 

“I wasn’t raised in a barn, Tooru.”

“I know! But just…no cussing or anything like that. And no slang either, my mom’s sort of a traditional kind of lady.” 

“Sure.”

“Oh, but my Dad likes sports! So you can talk about that all you want with him.”

“Ok.”

“I mean, he thinks you’re teaching me how to play, so he already sort of likes you. My dad’s easier to get along with than my mom—”

“Tooru.”

“Yeah?”

Iwa gave him a quick peck on the lips, and then freed himself from his grasp. “It’ll be fine.” 

Oikawa swallowed thickly, nodding his head. Saying something like that so easily…

He just hoped Iwa would still have that sort of confidence the day of the banquet. 

He didn't have much time to think about it though, Iwa tugging at his arm, and pulling him along. “C’mere.” 

“What?” He nearly tripped over his own legs, he was dragged into the kitchen so brusquely. 

“You look like you need a cookie.”

“A cook—mmph!”

Oikawa was met with chocolatey goodness, sweetness melting on his tongue. His entire face lit up. “Iwa-chan!” He chewed, his mouth still full, “Did you make these?”

Iwa chuckled, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Followed a recipe though. I suck ass at baking.” 

Oikawa wasn’t so sure about that, as he sat silently chewing on the cookie. Iwa’s food was always delicious. “So,” he said excitedly, “What’re you gonna teach me?” 

“The basics: Pasta.” 

Tooru made a face, swallowing his cookie thickly. “Even _I_ know how to do that, Iwa-chan.”

“Ok, so how would you do it?” 

“You just boil the water and stick the spaghetti in there.” 

“Wrong. You have to salt the water. And I like adding a bay leaf.” 

Iwa was met with wide eyes. “What’s a bay leaf?” 

Hajime deadpanned, bringing a hand up to his temple, “Maybe we should start…”

Oikawa wasn’t really able to listen to the rest, watching the way Iwa’s muscles tensed when he bent his arm like that, which led to other memories of when Iwa’s muscles were tensed, most of which contributed to an unhealthy spike of Oikawa’s pulse, but others were perfectly tame, like the way Iwa let out soft little whines just before he woke up, stretching and splaying out all over the bed, snuggling into his pillow or Tooru’s face—whichever was closer. 

And then there was the way Iwa was talking to him, smiling and going on and on about one ingredient or another, the way Iwa always did when he started talking about cooking, and the way he was carefully explaining to _not add too much,_ salt, that is, and how careful he was in teaching him, without being condescending in the least, which was a wonder, because Tooru was pretty sure that if he ever had to teach anyone anything he wouldn’t be anywhere near as good as Iwa, not when Hajime was as patient as he was, as understanding as he was, and Tooru was thinking that he really should try and become a chef, because he looked good, carrying the pot around like that, and Tooru got to thinking that he wouldn't mind if dinner could always look like this, with himself admiring from the table and Iwa describing ingredients and teaching him along the way. And then after dinner Oikawa could wash the dishes, and Iwa would hug him from behind to ask if he needed help, and Tooru would say no because Iwa had cooked, but Iwa would help him anyway because Iwa was just that sort of person, and then maybe...maybe—

“I think I love you.” 

Iwaizumi stopped abruptly, the pot crashing against the stove, somehow the water managing to not spill over. 

Oikawa’s eyes widened, his face reddening, dropping his hands from his face and sitting up perfectly straight. “I mean I think you should become a chef! You’d be really good! And I know you said you’re not good at baking but those cookies were great!” He chuckled awkwardly to himself, “Really tasty,” He cleared his throat, searching for a distraction, “Ah, um…so what comes after the salt?” 

It wasn’t really a _crash,_ more of a _tumbling_ sort of sound, when Iwa jumped on him, and Oikawa tried to reach for the chair to hold himself steady, but they only succeeded in falling down, the chair nearly crashing onto their heads. 

“Iwa-chan!” 

“Shut up. You’re banned from talking for today.” 

Oikawa reddened further, clutching at the front of Iwa’s shirt. “I…”

Iwa kissed him again, teeth hitting lips, growling at him to _be quiet_. But then Oikawa saw it. The undeniable blush that he’d only seen once or twice successfully claim Iwaizumi Hajime’s cheeks. 

And his heart began to race all over again. 

“Iwa-chaaaaan…” Tooru’s voice was muffled by the bigger male’s shoulder, but he tugged at the back of Iwa’s shirt, poking his face with his finger, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re heavy.” 

But Iwa didn’t let go, continued to hold him tightly, burying his face in Tooru’s neck and murmuring quietly. 

And maybe that shouldn’t have made him happy. Because it was cold, on Iwa’s kitchen floor, the tile smooth and hard against his back, Iwa’s death grip making it hard to take in a solid breath, the constant and steady bubbling of the water starting to get increasingly irritating, Tooru’s left leg starting to go numb and yet…

Nothing could have made him any happier at that moment, than the way Iwa muttered _me too,_ soft and shy against his neck. 

And if that’s how it was, Tooru thought, then he didn’t mind staying on this stupid freezing floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I got through enough of my block to at least get this out!! I just wanted to apologize, and to thank everyone for sticking with this for so long. I know updates have been incredibly spasmodic, but mostly no one has complained, and you've all been so understanding. I am really sorry I can't make any promises on how the updates will continue to be, but I can say that now we can get on to the good stuff, and to the chapters that I'm more excited about! According to my shitty outline, there's about 3 or 4 more chapters left to this, so it'll be one of my shorter stories, but at least this way you guys know what to expect I think. Again just thank you so much, your reviews give me life, and have gotten me through multiple bad days. Bless you all for reading and for pushing through with me!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a moment, Iwa thought they might as well had been. Because while that guy in the stone grey suit might have looked like Oikawa Tooru, he didn’t look like Tooru, if that meant anything. To Iwa it did.

One thing was obvious. Oikawa Tooru was most definitely in his element. And Iwa hadn’t ever really seen anything like it before. Not from Oikawa, at least. 

He didn’t have a word for it. Not _weird_ , exactly. Strange, but only because he never really got to see Tooru acting like that. But then again, wasn’t this exactly who he was, when they weren’t together? It was what Iwa should have expected, and yet it still managed to surprise him. 

There were still sides to him Iwa didn’t know.

He wanted to know.

Oikawa had called him handsome. Had said the suit looked even better than he remembered. 

“Black suits you, Iwa-chan.” 

He hadn’t called him _Iwa-chan_ since leaving the apartment. 

Again, that was to be expected. So why did everything just feel so... _weird?_

Probably because Oikawa was continuously asking if Iwa was ok. If he had enough food, if he had tried the hors-d’oeuvres, _because they’re really good I promise,_ and to not worry, because he’d only told his parents the good things. 

Not than anyone else would know Oikawa was anxious. But Iwa could tell. 

Anxious or not, t he truth was Oikawa didn’t look so bad himself, if Iwa was being honest, which he _was_ , because his eyes followed Tooru just as easily as everyone else’s, Oikawa sticking out in that stone grey suit that was tailored to absolute perfection. 

He was shining again. Just like on the day they’d first met. 

But they weren’t exactly strangers anymore, were they?

For a moment, Iwa thought they might as well had been. Because while that guy in the stone grey suit might have looked like Oikawa Tooru, he didn’t look like _Tooru,_ if that meant anything. To Iwa it did.

Right now, Oikawa looked like a Hospital Director’s son. Spoke like one. Was acting like one, all proper manners, remembering everyone’s names, laughing charmingly at old ladies’ jokes that weren’t that funny, offering up a few of his own, and pleasantly introducing everyone to _my friend Iwaizumi._

Because they were just friends, so far as everyone here was concerned. 

And he wasn’t Iwa tonight, or even Iwa-chan.

He was just _my friend Iwaizumi._

Or, to Oikawa’s parents, _my friend Iwaizumi Hajime._

Which just sounded really… _foreign_ coming from Tooru’s mouth. 

“So you’re the one teaching my son! I hope he hasn’t been too much of a handful!” 

“He’s a fast learner,” Iwa returned politely, “And good at retaining information.”

“Hopelessly uncoordinated, you mean,” Oikawa Sr. laughed, pulling his wife closer to him, as if to solidify the fact, “I used to play basketball myself. Tooru never took any interest in it though.” 

“Father…”

“What are you studying, Iwaizumi?” Oikawa’s mother smiled pleasantly, though her words seemed rather sharp. 

There was no question as to where Tooru got his good looks. His mother was beautiful; tall but slender, with long hair that was curlier than Tooru’s, and about a shade lighter, but those beaming brown eyes were hers without a doubt. 

And they were shooting daggers right through Iwa. 

“Mom—” Tooru tried.

“I’m taking a year off right now to work.” Hajime said, having already prepared his answer in advance.

“Oh my—”

“But,” Iwa continued, “Once I’ve saved up enough I’ll be heading to culinary school.” 

Iwa felt a sharp _smack_ against his back, and it took him about a second too long to realize Oikawa’s father was patting him on the back. “I admire your resolve, young man. Something like that can’t be easy.” 

Iwa smiled, “No, sir.”

“I didn’t know you were applying to culinary school…” Oikawa added, somewhat quietly, but with a smiling face nonetheless, “That’s great, Iwa-ch—“ he cleared his throat.

His mother glanced at him, but Tooru took a sip of water, before saying that he should go give his greeting to the Kawaguchi family, since he hadn't yet. 

Iwa was about to get up to follow him, but Oikawa Sr. called out to him, asking him a question about baseball. 

Iwa was glad to answer, because he really did want to get along with them, even if it meant starting off all slow like this, and with Mrs. Oikawa chatting to some other rich lady about earrings, Iwa could take a breath.

That is, until he saw what Oikawa had meant by Kawaguchi family. 

Because it wasn’t just another old couple. From the corner of his eye Iwa saw a girl about his age, in a dress that probably cost his monthly salary, shyly but elegantly talking with Tooru. 

Because she _was_ calling him Tooru. 

“They make a fine couple, don’t you think?” His father said, noticing Iwa’s stares, but smiling proudly either way. 

Iwa cleared his throat. “She’s very pretty.” 

Oikawa Sr. chuckled. “Tooru’s a bit of a scaredy-cat when it comes to women,” he leaned in, “But I think you probably noticed by now.”

Iwa chuckled nervously, the action forced and strained. 

Oikawa’s father patted him on the back again, “Maybe you can help him out in that regard. He needs to toughen up, if he ever hopes to marry her.” 

Iwa saw it coming. Knew he was going to say something along those lines from the moment he saw the girl. But he took a big gulp of water anyway. “Marry?” 

“More than likely,” Oikawa Sr. smiled, “They’ve been together since childhood.” 

From the corner of the room Oikawa was laughing, blushing slightly and rubbing the back of his head, the way he tended to do when he was anxious. 

“Ah, excuse me, I have to tend to some guests. But please,” Oikawa Sr. waved his hand, “Enjoy the food.” 

Iwa went numb. Because that’s how it was supposed to be, wasn’t it? Hadn't he been expecting something like this all along? Families like this...they always...and it wasn't like Oikawa _wasn’t_ attracted to girls. Not that he was attracted to this particular girl, exactly. But one day, if Oikawa wanted, he could find some girl to settle down with. Start a family with. 

A real family.

Iwa didn’t have that option. Never did. But that didn't matter. That was all behind him. He'd gotten through it. But Tooru...

There was a lot more at stake for Tooru, wasn't there? If people were to find out…

_“Homo.”_

That had been the first time. Some kid he didn’t know. Different class.

_“You take it up the ass now?”_

When he’d gotten kicked off the volleyball team.

_“Disgusting.”_

What had been his best friend.

_“He was so hot, though…”_

Some girls he shared a class with. They never bothered to talk to him, after that.

_“Have you tried with a real woman?”_

His mother. Maybe trying to understand. Maybe just being a bitch. 

_“You’re not my son.”_

His father, the day he was thrown out of the house. 

The memories didn't stop, coming in flashes, like awkward palpitations that made him sweat. Tooru wouldn’t make it…through something like that…

_I think I love you…_

Iwa got up rather rigidly, heading over to the bathroom to wash his face. He couldn’t think clearly. 

This was bad. He was jumping to conclusions. _Knew_ he was jumping to conclusions. Couldn’t _stop_ jumping to conclusions. 

Because realistically, how much time did they have? Until Tooru graduated? Less than that? 

Nothing really pointed to more. For a guy like Tooru to not have a girlfriend through college would be suspicious at best. There was only so much work you can devote yourself to, only so many times you could use school as an excuse. And a guy like Tooru would be invited to goukons all the time. It just wouldn’t…

And where would Iwa be, in all of this? Culinary school, _maybe._ If he got in. If he didn’t then who knows. 

He never had much of a direction to begin with. 

He’d probably still be stuck smoking the same cigarettes in the same shitty apartment while Tooru went off to manage some of the most well-respected hospitals in Japan. 

It’d be too much of a gap.

Even now, it was too much of a gap. 

Was it selfish, to keep Tooru to himself like this? 

He gripped the sink. The room was starting to spin. Because the worst of the memories were clear in his head now.

The way his kouhai had stood on his tippy toes that day, saying he _knew_ they were the same, Iwa just as curious, wanting those rough lips against his own, wanting to know what it felt like to hold a _man,_ feeling better than it had with any girl he’d ever been with, even if they were both drenched in sweat, stuck between the stench of post-practice locker room. 

Someone had seen them. And that was all it took, for everything to fall apart. 

One kiss. 

The stares. The sideways glances. The whispers. The awkward talk with his coach. How it’d be _better for the team this way._

He had a sports scholarship in his grasp. Grazing the edges of his fingertips. And just like that it was gone. 

He could have… _been_ something. 

The room hadn’t stopped spinning. It felt like one of those nights where he downed bottle after bottle. 

Iwa couldn’t do that to Tooru. _Wouldn’t_ do it to him. Because Tooru couldn’t just _be_ something. He already _was_ something. 

Turning the faucet on with unnecessary strength, Iwa splashed his face, coughing up some water he’d accidentally swallowed. 

_Get a grip, Iwa._

For now, he’d just leave. Leave and figure it all out later. Because right now he could barely even see straight. 

It’d be fine. He’d just go tell Tooru he had to go. Or maybe just not tell him at all. 

When he got out of the bathroom, Tooru was still talking to that girl. But they were talking to some other important looking people. And Iwa realized just how alone he really was. 

There was no denying it. They looked good together. Like those perfect couples you see in to-be-bought picture frames. Smiling, charming, a good pair. 

They’d be a power couple, Iwa was sure. Taking in a deep inhale, Iwa made his way to Oikawa’s parents, saying his stomach was messing with him, so he was going to take his leave, and to please let Oikawa know. 

It’s not like he was _lying,_ exactly. 

His father was very polite, and Oikawa's mom even offered to call a car to drive him home. Iwa said he’d rather walk it off, but _thank you very much_ , and with that, he left the banquet hall. 

The hotel smelled like chlorine and money. The kind of scent you could only get in lavish places like that. Clean and slick and just _rich._

And it just made him want to get the hell out of there. 

He was almost home free, actually, just about halfway through the parking lot, when out of nowhere--

“Iwa-chan!” 

_Fuck._

“If your stomach hurt you should’ve said something!” Oikawa was panting, had probably ran to catch up with him, “I’ll call the car—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Mm?” He was beside him now, cocking his head, “Rather walk? It’s far, though.”

“Oikawa, right now, I just need you to leave me alone.” 

At that, he seemed to stop, probably because it’d been a long time since he’d called him Oikawa, in such a sharp tone like that. 

“I-Iwa-chan?” Tooru caught up to him again, “Are you mad? I know I left you alone for a bit, it’s just, I have to talk to those people—”

“It’s whatever—”

“No no! And after I made you come and everything. I’ll make it up to you. Did you like the food atleast?” 

Iwa was getting damned tired of hearing that fucking question.

“It was fine.” 

“Iwa? I’m sorry. Come on, at least the car, your stomach—”

“My stomach doesn’t hurt you idiot!” 

Oikawa’s eyes widened, but he smiled. “Ok. I’m sorry. Want ramen or something? I can spend the night! My parents really liked you—”

“Only because they think I’m straight.”

It was silent for just a moment too long.

“What?” Tooru scrunched up his features, and Iwa wasn’t strong enough to look away. He wasn’t even sure what the hell he was saying.But he hated that look on Tooru’s face. 

“Look,” he exhaled, “It was fun and all, but we should stop this. You’re graduating and—”

“Wait, Iwa,” Tooru lunged for him, grabbed his wrist, and the sudden spike of anxiety in his voice just about ripped through Iwa's chest, “I’m sorry you hated it. I really won’t make you come to these things anymore so—”

“That’s not it.” He shook his head, though he wasn't sure why, since this was his whole goddamn plan anyway.

“Was it because of Saki? She’s my childhood friend. But she’s got a boyfriend already. I don’t know what my dad said but I swear we’ve never—”

That voice. It was painful to hear. And more than anything else Iwa just really needed him to stop talking.

“Tooru. I don’t want to do this anymore.” 

Oikawa let go abruptly. “Don't wanna do what?” 

“You’re smart. I told you didn’t I? I just like pretty faces.” 

He frowned. “Are you trying to tell me you got bored or something?” 

Iwa scoffed. “So you _are_ smart.” _Fuck fuck fuck._

Oikawa crossed his arms, not looking convinced in the slightest. They'd gotten too good at reading each other. “Is this because I said I loved you? You’re the one who started it, saying you wanted to fall in love with me. I won’t let you chicken out, Iwa-chan.”  He grinned widely again, offering his hand out. And Iwa thought he had to run _now,_ or he’d get sucked in, and never let Oikawa go. 

Was he really doing this? _Could_ he do this? Because right now, it meant never running his hands through Tooru’s hair again. Never waking up to nuzzles against his chest. No more _Iwa-chan_ this or _Iwa-chan_ that. No more laughing at nothing and tumbling into the floor and washing dishes together—

_ Fuck what the hell. _

“I lied.” It came out a lot easier than he’d expected it to. And the moment those words left his mouth he couldn’t stop. “I mean this whole thing started out as _blackmail._ How stupid can you _be_?” 

Oikawa staggered slightly, confusion thwarting his features. “What're…we…” he frowned again, “You’re lying. I can see in your face—” he chewed his lip, “Iwa-chan, that’s not funny. I’ll walk you home ok? So let’s—”

“That’s another thing. Where the fuck do you come off adding a _chan_ to my name?” 

Oikawa looked as though he’d been stabbed right through the stomach. And that only made Iwa feel like he'd been stabbed in turn. Everything in him started to _scream._

“I-Iwa? Ok, you’re mad, but…please just explain it to me. If you tell me then I can fix it! I mean I know sometimes I’m…but I mean this is all new…for me…you know you’re my—we can tell my parents, if that’s what you’re worried about. But just be patient, ok? O-Or we can slow down—if this is really about what I said…last time…”

Iwa had to turn around. Was already walking away _fast_ because he couldn’t bear to see that face, or hear that voice any longer. Because it was panicked, Oikawa tripping over his words and rushing to get them out, to try and figure out what was going on, desperately trying to negotiate even though he hadn't done anything  _wrong_ because this was all Iwa's fault in the first place, if he'd never...

“Iwa! You’re just gonna leave??”

_ Don’t look back. _

“Iwa!!” 

_Don’t look back._

“Hajime!” 

He stopped. Swallowed thickly. If he turned around now, he knew he’d just run right to him. And all this would be pointless. 

No, that wasn't right. Everything up to now had been pointless. Because Oikawa had never really been his, had he? There was no way someone like Iwa, and someone like him...even if Iwa _had_ been a girl...

"Iwa-chan...?"

_Fucking hell._

“Thanks for the suit, rich kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the PAIN TRAINNNNN *CHOO CHOO* 
> 
> The angst is just gonna get worse from here fair warning. I think there's only two chapters left for this story ;__; maybe just one if I'm lazy lmfao but I think the last bit is gonna be too long so I'll probs split it into two. Comments are much appreciated! Ty everyone ^^


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa slapped his cheeks, bracing himself. No, that was stupid. Couples had fights all the time. This was just their first one.
> 
> It’d be fine. If anything, it was sort of exciting, wasn’t it? Because didn’t a fight prove that they were serious about each other?

Oikawa Tooru still wasn’t used to grocery bags. The plastic crinkling sound they made with any given movement. Their tendency to stretch, and even rip. But for the most part, they did the job. And he was only carrying a few things anyway. So a bag like this was fine.

He climbed the stairs he’d gotten oh-so-used to climbing, heart just about beating out of his chest. Because although he’d done a lot of thinking, and had already planned out what he was going to say…

What if Iwa-chan didn’t open the door?

Oikawa slapped his cheeks, bracing himself. No, that was stupid. Couples had fights all the time. This was just their first one. 

It’d be fine. If anything, it was sort of exciting, wasn’t it? Because didn’t a fight prove that they were serious about each other?

Logic did nothing to steady his trembling fingers though, when he reached out to ring the buzzer. 

Oikawa cleared his throat while he waited, gripping the grocery bag with both hands. And maybe he should’ve waited just a little longer before ringing the bell again, but he couldn’t help it. Because the anxiety was building up in his throat.

“Iwa-chan? It’s me,” he knocked on the door, before pausing again, “It’s Tooru.” 

Silence. 

“I know you’re in there,” Oikawa knocked again, “Your bike’s outside.” 

He dropped his hand from the door again, clearing his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

There was too long of a pause. 

He would have preferred to say all this face to face. But behind the door seemed like it was as good as it was going to get. 

“Ok well,” he voice was shakier than he would have liked, “I just wanted to apologize. Properly. Honestly you’re my first real…partner. I’ve never done—I’ve never had to worry about anyone else before. I know I have a tendency to be selfish. A-And I also know you’ve been in lots of relationships before me and maybe that’s why you were able to be so patient with me. I know I’m not easy. And I guess I took advantage that. I know you didn’t want to go to the banquet to begin with, so I shouldn’t have made you.” 

Oikawa swallowed, everything he had planned to say starting to get jumbled in his head. Because the door was still closed. “Iwa,” his words were becoming more rushed, “I won’t make you go to something like that anymore if you don’t want. And you can keep the suit or burn it or—“ he tried to breathe, to slow his words, “I know I’m spoiled. I’ll work on it so just…b-but if this was about Saki then can I assume you’re jealous? If so then that makes me a little happy…but I guess you’re mad since I don’t even know the reason,” Oikawa laughed sadly, “I guess I’m a pretty horrible boyfriend.” 

It was too quiet. Maybe Iwa _wasn’t_ there? That would’ve been a little embarrassing. But he had to be. Because Iwa was always home on Sundays. And his bike was down there in the lot. Oikawa had checked. So that meant that Tooru was just being purposely ignored. 

What did he do for Iwa to get like this?

With another deep inhale, and another clear of his throat, he knocked on the door again, trying his best to sound cheerful. “Ah, Iwa-chan! I brought your cigarettes! I went to Jason’s shop and everything. A-And soda too of course! Dr. Pepper, like always. It’s your favorite isn’t it? Even if you’re mad at me I know you can’t resist your sweet tooth so…” he laughed, though it was more nervous than anything else, “So—” Oikawa’s voice cracked, and he could feel the stinging of hot tears prickling the backs of his eyes. 

This was bad. He didn’t know what to do anymore. If Iwa-chan didn’t open the door, then, didn’t that mean…

But had Oikawa done something _that_ bad? It didn’t make sense. They were always kissing and other things. They talked a bunch. Oikawa thought that they talked about a lot, actually. Unless, maybe Iwa wasn’t satisfied? With the talking or…the other things…he hadn’t told him about culinary school, after all. 

Or maybe, worse than that…

_I think I love you._

Gods, he was an _idiot._ That’d be enough to send _anyone_ into a panic, even if it had just slipped out. And Iwa obviously didn’t get into anything too serious with too many people. And Oikawa had just gone ahead and blurted it out without even bothering to think about Iwa’s feelings. His heart clenched. If that was all it was, then it’d be fine, right? This was fixable? He’d just wait until Iwa’s feelings caught up with his own. 

He could do that. He could wait for Iwa. 

“Hey…Iwa-chan." He took in a deep breath, tried to steady his voice, tried to make sure the tears didn't fall from his eyes, "I’m sorry if what I said…if it freaked you out. I got ahead of myself. I won’t say it again, if it was that weird. I mean, saying something like that, and then having you meet my parents…I get it. I get is so…p-please just open the door?” 

Silent tears fell hot and fast down Iwa’s cheeks, on the other side of the door. 

This was fucked. So so _fucked._ He hadn’t slept at all. What was he doing? What _could_ he do? He’d be an asshole either way. Open the door and keep Oikawa from the future he deserved, or keep the door closed and put him through…

He tugged at his own hair. He was terrified. Shaking, even. _What was he supposed to do?_

Oikawa pounded at the door, and Iwa’s heart nearly stopped. 

“Ok! I get it! You’re mad! Jeez what the hell! At least _talk_ to me. Or break up with me properly! It’s not like we were just going out for the hell of it! We’ve talked things out before! You said—“ he slammed his fist against the door, and Iwa jumped again, “Why are you running away? What did I do? You owe me that at least. Or is this how you break up with all your boyfriends? The moment it gets a little serious you hide in your apartment?” 

He figured Oikawa would start to get pissed. He didn’t think he’d start yelling so openly about their relationship, though. 

Maybe…Maybe he could open the door. And they could just figure it out together. Maybe they’d just do this for as long as possible, and then once Tooru had to take over for his dad, then…

_Then what?_ Wouldn’t that be a hell of a lot worse? So it’d be better, wouldn’t it, if he kept the door closed? 

“If you—”

Iwa flinched, not hearing that sort of voice since the first time they’d met…

“If you don’t open right now then I’m not coming back! I mean it!” 

There was a small pause, before Oikawa started pounding at the door again, “I’m serious! I won’t! I already apologized, so now it’s your turn! We can make up already…I won’t be mad…” 

Oh gods. Those mood swings didn’t fit him. 

It was quiet for so long, that Iwa thought he’d left. Which meant that it really was over. Because once Oikawa got an idea in his head—

“Fine!” 

The door was kicked this time, Iwa could tell, because it was a lot lower, and he could feel the force of the hit against his back. 

“You’re…you’re the complete worst! I hate you!”

Iwa swallowed thickly. Good. That had been the point, right? If Oikawa hated him, then soon enough he’d forget him, and go on to do what he was supposed to. 

Because, Iwa knew, it was a hell of a lot easier to move on, if you hated someone. 

If Oikawa had left it at that, then it would have been fine. And maybe Iwa could have gotten over all of this too. 

But there was a low and heavy _thump,_ as if Oikawa had let his head fall against the door. And Iwa wasn’t sure _how_ he heard it, because it had been such a _soft_ sound, Oikawa’s voice so close to just _breaking_ …

“You’re a coward, Hajime.”

_That_ , Iwa thought, was something he was only all too aware of.

* * *

 

Cigarettes had the amazing ability to calm him down. 

It didn’t stop his hand from shaking though, every time he flicked the lighter. 

He’d turned his phone off. Was scared to turn it on. Not like Tooru would call. He was too stubborn for something like that. 

But Iwa might. Might send a text. Might call and undo everything he’d just suffered through. 

Everything _they’d_ just suffered through. 

Maybe then his hands would stop shaking. 

He blew out the smoke in a rush, smashing the butt in his ashtray, before reaching over for his phone, pushing down _hard_ on the power button. 

He didn’t realize how long phones took to turn on. His heart pounded with every second that passed. 

The home screen couldn’t load fast enough. And he cursed his shaking fingers, clicking the camera when he meant to go to contacts, going back to the main screen, swiping down to _Tooru,_ his thumb hovering over his name—

_Incoming call._

Iwa inhaled sharply, his heart just about stopping, before he realized it wasn't Tooru. He thought he was about to have a motherfucking heart attack. 

“Hello?” 

“Dude what the fuck. I’ve been trying to call you for an hour.” 

“Sorry,” Iwa cleared his throat, “Phone was off.” 

“Your boy was at the shop,” Jason dragged out, “But I guess you knew that already.” 

“Yeah,” Iwa exhaled, “Yeah I…” 

“So~” Jason pried, “You two fuck it out? Or work it out or whatever the hell. You should’ve seen his face when he walked in. I’ve never seen someone look so nervous in all my life.”

Iwa’s chest clenched. “No we…” his mind was spinning, “We broke up.” 

The pause on the other end of the line was deafening. “…What? When?” 

“Yesterday,” Iwa rubbed his face, “Or today…I don’t really know.” 

“What the fuck happened?” 

Iwa didn’t know how to answer that. But then again, there was only one way he really _could_ answer. 

“I think I fucked up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok before anyone says ANYTHING, I do believe I said it was going to get worse before it gets better lol. That being said, there will be comfort, I promise, I don't want to ruin anyone's week lol. But if you follow my omegaverse story then you've seen how capable (I hope it came off as capable) I am of the hurt/comfort with the whole kurotsukki bit there. ANYWAYS. This week is gonna be hell cuz I have another essay due but I will try to update as soon as possible because I know waiting is torture. Aaaanndd I may need two more chapters to end this whole thing lol. We'll see once I write it all out. Either one longer than usual chapter or two shorter chapters. In any case, thank you all as always for commenting and for all of your support ^^ It's really more than I can ask for and it pushed me to crack out this chapter in like a day and if that's not amazing then idk what is. 
> 
> Ok, that all being said, *whips out tissue box* we're gonna need these lol


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t know me!” Oikawa shouted, but then started to hiccup, “You don’t know anything so—so—“ He hit Iwa’s chest, though it wasn’t a very hard hit, and he just kept crying, and hitting Iwa, yelling about how he could do whatever he wanted. “You’re so mean! Mean, Iwa-chan!” That seemed to be the end of his strength though, because he started whimpering, slumping against Iwa and crying into his shoulder.
> 
> “So mean…”

_6 Years Later…_

This was his last month of working at the bar, before starting his first job as a chef. 

Well, technically, he’d only be in charge of basic things. Chopping and the like. Soups, if he was lucky. But it was one hell of a start. And Iwaizumi Hajime was so _ready_ to start. 

Because it'd been a long time coming. 

All that time. The endless days working, saving up enough to finally make it into school. And then school itself, which was far more intense than he ever thought it’d be. How he still had to work, because he hadn’t saved enough, not nearly enough, tuition about three times as high as what he thought it was gonna be. 

But bartending was a pretty solid gig. And the tips were generous. _More_ than generous, actually, especially when Iwa rolled up his sleeves a bit, showed off the tattoo he’d gotten his first year of school, which always got people talking, got people curious. 

And with a few smartly placed smiles Iwa had them eating out of the palm of his hand. 

Gay bars were really something else.

It kept him busy. And some days,  _weeks,_ even, he could get away with not thinking about... 

He loved Thursdays most. Because they were always pretty slow, which meant the same pay for less work, even if they _were_ in a red district. And it only got slower the closer they got to midnight. But it was the calm before the storm known as Friday Night. And places like these never went without an interesting story or two. Or seven.

But those stories were for Friday. Not Thursday. Because the bar was too empty. Too quiet. If it had been Friday, then maybe Iwa wouldn't have noticed. 

No, that wasn't right. The number of people didn't matter. Because Iwaizumi Hajime was pretty sure he would have noticed either way. 

Because it was impossible, he thought, to _not_ notice someone like Oikawa Tooru. 

He was taller. Sharper, somehow. Older, for sure, but six years did that to a person, didn't it? 

He still took Iwa’s breath away. 

Wasn’t that how they’d met, in any case? A drunk Oikawa, and a breathless Iwa?

“No!” Tooru laughed, smacking the guy he’d come in with on the shoulder, and _oh gods it sounded the same,_ “I already had enough to drink, you demon—”

The world might as well have stopped. Because at that moment Iwa thought they both probably never planned on seeing each other again. Because what was Oikawa Tooru doing in a gay bar? Because everything seemed to slow, a slight sway to that long body as their eyes met, Oikawa putting a hand over his mouth, before everything sped up again, the brunette running for the bathroom. 

“Oikawa…?” The guy with him tried to question, but just shrugged it off instead, walking over to sit down at one of the bar stools. He looked foreign. 

“Beauty isn’t he?”

Iwa glanced at him, drying a glass. “Sure is.” 

“I’ll have a bourbon.” 

Iwa nodded, reaching for a bottle, and pouring the drink. He watched the guy carefully, trying his best not to _glare,_ the guy reeking of alcohol but somehow still fully functioning. 

“Ah, that hits the spot.” 

Iwa nodded, the way bartenders are supposed to, but busied himself with rearranging a few other bottles, and checking on the ice. 

What the hell was _that._ There was no way Oikawa Tooru— _the Oikawa Tooru—_ would be walking in _that casually_ into a gay bar. That’s not how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to—medical school or something—and with a girl—a _girl_ because that’s how it was _supposed_ to be—and who the fuck was _this_ guy, so obviously _not_ Japanese with his slicked back blonde hair and his fucking accent and being all fucking tall and shit and not seeming to care that Tooru—

Iwa inhaled. 

Tooru had been in the bathroom for too long. 

“Shouldn’t you check on your boyfriend?” He said. 

The man glanced at him, before he burst out laughing. “Boyfriend? I wish. That’s guy’s a fucking fish. Slips right out of your grasp every time.” 

Iwa glanced at him, fully aware of the fact that he _was_ glaring now, “Even still, you should check—”

“Heh,” the man cocked his head, “Wanna try your luck, bartender?” 

Iwa dropped his towel down on the table, undoing his apron and telling his co-worker to cover him for a bit. 

He walked-ran to the bathroom faster than he cared to admit. 

When he opened the door though, Oikawa was already washing his hands, putting a stray curl back in place. 

He looked so different, and yet exactly the same. 

“You never were able to hold your alcohol,” Iwa said, leaning against the door frame, Oikawa looking at him curiously while he dried his hands, tossing the paper towel away. 

He smiled pleasantly though, before walking up to him and pushing the door open. “I’m sorry,” he beamed, smiling to the point where his eyes crinkled in fake politeness, tilting his head ever so slightly, “Do I know you?” 

The door swung closed. The water dripped from the faucet. And Iwaizumi Hajime didn't move. He closed his eyes, and shook his head, before running a hand through his hair.

He should've expected something like that. Should’ve known it’d be like that. So instead he swallowed thickly, and got a grip on himself, because he had to get back to work.

Yeah. 

Work.

He returned to the bar to the sound of Tooru's forced laughter, because it _was_ forced, Hajime knew that much at least, Oikawa teasingly dragging his hands down that guy's tie. 

Iwa was gripping the glasses too tightly. 

What the hell happened to the guy who felt awkward just _standing_ too close in public? All of a sudden Tooru was frequenting gay bars with random ass guys? Was this for real?

If Oikawa was gonna be all open and embrace his sexuality and flirt so fucking flamboyantly then Iwa never would've...

What the _fuck_ was the point if Oikawa didn't--

"Hellooo~~" Oikawa was waving his hand in front of his face, "Mr. Bartender~~"

Iwa blinked, snapping himself back to the present, ”What.”

Oikawa laughed, "He was so out of it, wasn't he Adam? Nee, bartender, what's your name? I'll have to report you~" Tooru spoke playfully, resting his chin in his palm and taking a sip of Adam's drink. 

"Slow down there, Princess." The edge of Adam's knuckle bumped affectionately against Tooru's chin, when the foreigner pulled the glass away. 

The bottle of bourbon was _slammed_ against the counter, making both men jump.

"Refill?" Iwa smiled charmingly at the man known as _Adam_ , the way bartenders were supposed to. 

"Mr. Bartender~" Oikawa cut in coyly, "I'd like a drink.”

“What do you want?”

Oikawa hummed, making a very purposeful _thinking_ face, tapping his chin teasingly, “Maybe…” he spread out his hands, finding his answer, “Sex on the Beach!” He laughed like it was some sort of joke, that Adam guy leaning in way too close. 

Iwa turned around, making as was requested, finishing it off with an orange slice. 

He didn’t add any vodka, though. 

Oikawa seemed to notice, because his eyes widened when he tasted it, and that Adam guy asked if it was too strong, but Tooru didn’t look at him, just looked at Iwa, smiling with that dumb face Iwa remembered only all too well.

“It’s sweet!” 

And for a moment, it felt like they were back in Iwa’s apartment, sitting on his crappy chairs in that old kitchen, because Oikawa had always smiled all big like that, any time Iwa gave him something to eat. 

“Let me have a sip—”

Oikawa giggled, pushing Adam away and sucking at the straw, “You have your own! Greedy~” 

Iwa turned away, walking to the other end of the bar to check on the other patrons. He didn’t really feel like listening anymore. 

“Long day Iwaizumi?” 

Iwa sighed, pulling out a glass for the owner. An older guy with no sense or filter, and colored hair with a cut that was supposed to make him look younger, but only made him look even older. “Something like that,” Iwa explained, before reminding him that an owner shouldn’t frequent his own bar. 

“I can do what I want,” he reminded, taking a sip and casually glancing over to Oikawa, “He’s handsome.”

“Mm.”

“And blonde too~”

“I thought you meant—”

The owner waved his hand, laughing, “You know our tastes are nowhere near—”

“They’re not together,” Iwa said suddenly, “If you like the foreigner that much—”

“Iwaizumi,” he gasped, “How sly of you—”

“Just passing along information, Natsume.” 

Natsume leaned in, eyes glimmering with excitement, “Is that allowed? You’re at work, you know.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Fufu! Been a while since you’d picked anyone up, hasn’t it, Iwaizumi?” 

“I’m not trying to.”

“No no. Just keeping the hunter from the prey, aren’t you?”

Iwa glared at him. 

Natsume shivered. “Gwah~ So scary Iwa! Maybe we should just comfort each other instead—”

“It’s him.”

Natsume crinkled his features, looking at Iwa strangely, “The foreign…” his voice trailed off, before his eyes widened with realization, and he leaned into the counter suddenly, “You mean _him_ him? _That_ one?”

“Not so loud.” Iwa grimaced, wiping the bar down to keep himself busy. 

Natsume sat backdown, grinning and licking his lips. “Oh my,” he swirled his drink around, “This is going to get interesting.” 

“Shut up.”

Oikawa called for him again, waving his hand, “Yahoo~~ Mr. Bartender~”

Natsume’s eyes widened, sipping his drink while he looked at Iwa, “Was he always like that?” 

Iwa didn’t bother to answer, walking back to Tooru and the foreigner. 

“Sorry about that, he’s a bit drunk—”

“Shh,” Oikawa winked, putting a finger to his own lips, “He doesn’t need to know that.” 

“Don’t give him any more,” the foreigner insisted, “If I don’t get him back I’ll be in trouble—”

“Adam-chan? Weren’t we going to your house after this?” 

Three things.

Three things that had Iwa just about ready to snap that guy’s neck. Because one, Oikawa was _not_ drunk. If anything he was very much sober. Two, the fact that _Tooru_ was the one who wanted to go to this guy’s fucking _house—_

But worst of all. _Worst of_ ** _all._**

The mother. fucking. _chan._

Not that he was going to say anything, though. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

Suddenly, Iwaizumi Hajime hated Thursdays. 

And any other day that Oikawa decided to come back on. Because he _did_ come back. Making an obnoxious show of himself so that Iwa would _have_ to notice him, would _have_ to see him, even if he was still pretending that they didn’t know each other. 

Unless they _didn’t?_

Maybe he’d gotten into some sort of accident. Maybe he had amnesia. Maybe this was their chance to start over without any painful memories—

No, that was stupid. He _really_ had to stop listening to Kuroo.

Besides, even if he _did_ have memory loss it didn’t change the fact that everything he did caught Iwa’s attention. Which wasn’t conducive to productivity. 

Especially on one particular Friday, the place more packed than usual, Oikawa stumbling up to the bar, giggling stupidly and biting his lip, cocking his head and looking at Iwa. 

“You’re hot.” 

And Iwa had war flashbacks, because that’s exactly how Oikawa had approached him the first time, all pink-cheeked and flushed face and hair an absolute—

“How meaaaan~” Some other guy stumbled into the bar right behind him, black hair and tiger print shirt, throwing his arm over Oikawa’s shoulder, “Calling another guy hot right in front of meee.” 

Oikawa laughed, swaying a bit while he unhooked himself from the stranger. “Are you jel—lous?” He giggled between syllables, hiccuping at the end. 

The guy laughed, resting his arm against the bar, holding up a victory sign. “Bartender! Two shots please!” 

Iwa was pretty sure he was making a scary face. Was about to say _no absolutely not_ because Tooru was _hiccuping_ for fuck’s sake, but before he knew it the shots were placed right in front of them, his coworker stabbing him in the ribs.

“Oy, wake up man. It’s only gonna get worse from here.” 

Iwa blinked, shaking his head and tending to some other customers, because they _were_ busy, and to be focused solely on Oikawa would be—

He’d just distract himself. It was busy enough. 

And he did, for the most part. They didn’t close until three, but it was already getting close to one in the morning, so Iwa figured only a few more hours wouldn’t kill anybody, and Tooru was just out there dancing like an idiot, so it wasn’t like—

“Mr. Bartender!~~” Oikawa practically fell into the bar, laughing as he did so, whining at the pain and letting out a long and languid _owwwwww._

Iwa glanced at him. Wasn't he a bit old, to be acting like that?

“Rum! Gimme something with rum in it!” 

“I think you’re done for tonight.” 

Oikawa pouted, scrunching up his features before slamming his fist into the bar. Although, granted, it wasn’t very forceful. “Gimme more!”

Iwa didn’t budge. “No, you’re wasted.” 

Oikawa snickered, standing up straight and cocking his head, “Iwa-chan, are you my _mom_?” 

The glass slipped through his fingers, shattering at his feet on the floor. 

By now the guy he’d come in with was there too, muttering something about how Tooru shouldn’t bully the bartenders, but that was all Iwa really got to hear, heart racing as he bent down to pick up the broken glass. 

He was shaking, fingers hovering clumsily over the pieces. Because he hadn’t been called Iwa-chan in six years. Because that meant that Tooru _did_ remember. Because he didn’t think he’d ever be called that again, let along by _Oikawa_ again, and if that was the case then—”

“…-et’s go home—”

“I don’t want to—”

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that—” 

Iwa stood back up immediately, only to see that sleezy-ass guy leaning in, Tooru trying to push him away with his hand—

“Oy,” Iwa nodded, hovering over the two of them rather ominously, “He said no.” 

“Stay out of it, man.”

“He’s drunk.”

“Which is why I’m taking him home—”

Oikawa shook his head, “I don’t wanna go home with you—”

“Come on, Tooru, you weren’t saying that before…” Tiger-Shirt leaned in again, and Oikawa made a face, trying to turn his head away but he was so obviously drunk, not really succeeding, and Iwa just really didn’t have it in him anymore. 

“Iwa-chan!!”

There was a large clatter, the stool falling over on the other side of the bar, everyone falling to silence, turning their attention to see what had happened. 

“Get the fuck out,” Iwa said, rubbing his knuckles and then shaking out his hand. 

_Christ, how long had it been since he’d thrown a punch?_

“What the fuck man—!”

“Get out,” Iwa repeated, “Or I’ll call the police.”

“ _You_ punched _me—_ ”

“And you’re piss drunk.” 

He seemed sober enough to put two and two together, though, and scrambled to get up, grabbing his jacket and making a show of his annoyance, before stomping out of the bar. 

When Iwa turned back around, Oikawa was crying. 

It’d been a long time, since Iwaizumi Hajime had seen Oikawa Tooru cry. With more rushed panic in his voice than he really wanted to show, he reached out for him, going around the bar, his body seeming to move on it’s own. “Tooru—”

“Why would you do that?” He rubbed his face, but the tears didn’t stop falling, “That was my boyfriend—”

“We both know that was _not_ your boyfriend—”

“You don’t know me!” Oikawa shouted, but then started to hiccup, “You don’t know _anything_ so—so—“ He hit Iwa’s chest, though it wasn’t a very hard hit, and he just kept crying, and hitting Iwa, yelling about how he could do whatever he wanted. “You’re so mean! Mean, Iwa-chan!” That seemed to be the end of his strength though, because he started whimpering, slumping against Iwa and crying into his shoulder.

“So mean…”

Iwa gulped, everyone in the bar still watching them, glancing over to the owner, who was watching more intently than anyone else, and Iwa nudged Tooru, trying to get him off.

“Hey…Tooru, come on, you’re making a scene—”

“I don’t care!” 

Iwa called to his coworker, telling him to call the other guy because Iwa was sure he wasn’t going to be able to come back tonight, but Natsume replied instead, saying everything was taken care of here. Iwa nodded, showing his appreciation, and then dragged Tooru out behind the bar, into the crisp cold of Friday night air. 

He was still crying. And he started to hit him again.

“You said! I believed you! And then you just—why? _Why?_ You never even told—”

Six years. 

Six _years._

“Jesus Christ Tooru,” He pulled him to his chest, holding him close, “Tell me what I was supposed to do—”

“Not that!”

“I didn’t have a choice—”

“Yes you did—”

Iwa pulled away, grabbing Oikawa by the shoulders, so that there’d be no more misunderstandings. “There weren’t any options, back then. I’d fucked up my life. I couldn’t fuck yours up too.”

“What’re you talking about—”

“I wasn’t anybody. I didn’t have any sort of skill. I mean even my job wasn’t—I needed to catch up—”

“I don’t,” Oikawa was hiccuping again, “I don’t understand, we—”

“I couldn’t put you through what I went through. Seeing you with that girl, and meeting your parents…they never would’ve accepted me, even if our relationship weren’t—I was a punk. And I don’t know how you broke it to your parents, it must’ve gone well, from the looks of it, but I couldn’t take that risk—”

“Baka!” His chest was hit again, “Baka baka baka! You don’t know _anything._ Of course they found out! After you left I—how could I—how could they not—I hate you! I hate you Iwa-chan! I hate—”

Iwa hugged him again, Tooru still struggling to hit him, “I hate you…” he sobbed freely, gripping at Iwa tightly and letting the tears flow, his shoulders hunched and shaking. 

“Yeah,” Iwa swallowed thickly, trying to rub Tooru’s back encouragingly, “I know.” 

And he held him, just like that, for a really long time, even though it was cold, and late, and they were both sort of shaking.

But even something like that couldn't last as long as Iwa wanted. 

“Come on,” he said finally, “I’ll get you a cab, and—”

“I don’t want to.” Oikawa murmured into his shoulder. 

“It’ll be ok. You need to sleep and—”

“I won’t let go,” Oikawa clutched at the back of Iwa’s shirt, holding him even closer, “Not again…” His voice started to shake. 

“Ok,” Iwa swallowed, trying to make sure _his_ voice didn’t start to shake, “Ok, what do you wanna do?” 

“Take me home, Iwa-chan.” 

“That’s what I’m trying—”

“Iwa-chan’s home.” 

He took a deep breath. Because Iwaizumi Hajime had always been hopelessly weak to Oikawa Tooru’s selfish requests.

* * *

 

It was black. But not sharp, like he remembered. More…fluid? That was weird. He hadn’t dreamt about Iwa in…

He blinked harder. He _wasn’t_ …dreaming… _was_ he? 

He inhaled sharply, the scent of Iwa’s sheets an inundating sort of smell, drowning him in all sorts of memories that—

“Hey.” 

Oikawa was blinking rapidly, was trying really hard to not let the tears fall, but it wasn’t really working. “H-Hi…” 

Iwa wiped the tears away with his thumb, not letting them fall from Tooru’s lashes. “Jeez, what’re you crying for?” 

Oikawa grabbed for him, held onto him like he might disappear, his sobs bursting from his chest. “I missed—I missed you so much—”

“I…” Iwa held on just as tightly, burying his face in Oikawa’s shoulder, “Me too. I’m here now.”

Oikawa nodded, still blubbering, Iwa asking if he remembered anything from last night. Tooru squeezed, shutting his eyes tight and nodding, apologizing over and over again.

“What the hell for?” 

“Because…I made you…and I—drunk—but I just—wanted to see you—“ 

And Iwa couldn’t take the tears anymore. Couldn’t take the stuttering or the hiccups or the sound of his voice because it was too much like that day. And that was something Iwaizumi Hajime never wanted to relive ever again. 

So he grabbed him, cupped his face and kissed him _hard,_ his lips touching Oikawa’s for the first time in six long years. 

If anything though, Oikawa just cried more, his tears falling all over Iwa’s fingers, his choked sobs muffled and swallowed by Iwa’s own mouth. 

_Iwa-chan Iwa-chan Iwa-chan._ He wouldn’t stop saying it. 

“If this…I mean are you—because I can’t—not again,” it was scary, almost, how tightly Tooru was holding onto him, “If you leave again I—”

“I won’t.”

“But—”

“Tooru,” he breathed, “Look at me.” 

Suddenly Oikawa was scared. Terrified, even. Because this really _was_ Iwa holding him, wasn’t it? He _wasn’t_ dreaming right? He couldn’t be, because everything felt too real, the smell of the bed and his own pathetic tears and the way Iwa’s chest expanded every time he inhaled…

He blinked, lashes heavy and wet, looking at Iwa somewhat timidly, swallowing thickly. “Yeah?” He whispered. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Oikawa licked his lips. Nodded. 

“I’ve grown up a lot. I’ve got a real job now. Honestly I still don’t think I’m good enough for a guy like you. But I want to be. And I’ll—”

Oikawa didn’t really realize it, but he was laugh-crying, feeling all sorts of emotions at once but none at all, sniffling and letting his head rest against Iwa’s shoulder. “You’re scary,” he murmured, “When you’re serious.” 

Iwa rubbed his hand up and down Tooru’s back. “Sorry.”

He shook his head. “I don’t mind.” 

Iwa exhaled shakily. “So…now what?” 

Tooru looked at him, biting his lip, “Start over?” 

Hajime nodded, hugging him again. “Ok," he swallowed, somewhat awkwardly, heart just about beating out of his chest, "I really am gonna try for you, Tooru."

Tooru nodded shyly, "I know. I-I will too."

It got quiet.

"...Want a beer?” Iwa tried, not really knowing what else to say. 

Oikawa’s lips shook with a smile, timidly pressing them against Iwa’s chest. “It’s eight in the morning.”

“So it is.” 

Oikawa tilted his head, scratching softly on Iwa’s chest in habit, and Iwa knew well enough, dipped his own head so their lips would meet, soft kiss rolling into soft kiss.

Tooru murmured, snuggling and nuzzling as they pulled away. “…so glad…” 

“What?”

“It still tastes like you.” 

Iwa nearly smiled. “And what do I taste like?” 

Oikawa looked at him, eyes bright and shining. “Like cigarettes and soda.” 

Iwa laughed at that, shaking his head, “Old habits die hard I guess.” 

“Mm. You got another tattoo.”

He nodded, “I did.” 

“Can I see?” 

Iwa held out his forearm, right between the two of them so Oikawa could look. 

Tooru traced his fingers over the ink, following the soft lines that made up the leafless tree. It was nothing like the harsh, bold lines of the tribal tattoo on his other arm. 

“You always liked doing that.” Iwa murmured. 

Oikawa smiled, still tracing, “Old habits die hard.” He looked up at Iwa, “Why a tree?” 

Iwa shrugged. “I wanted to become something new, without changing who I was. That’s why the roots are still there.” 

“But there’s no leaves.” 

“You have to get rid of the old stuff, so you can start fresh.” 

“That’s pretty deep, Iwa-chan.” 

He smirked. “You think so?” 

Oikawa bit his lip, “Did your other one have a meaning?” 

Iwa looked at him, brushing his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, the way he used to, the soft indulgence between his fingertips calming him down. 

“Courage. Or bravery or something. I was pretty pissed when I got it.” 

Oikawa nodded, letting go of his arm and snuggling into Iwa again, letting out a long sigh. “I finished med school, last month.” 

“Congratulations.” 

It was silent, for a time, before Iwa was smacked on the chest rather rudely. “Now _you_ have to tell _me_ something.” 

He cleared his throat, before adhering to Oikawa’s request. “I finished culinary school.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I start in August.” 

“Congratulations!” Oikawa hummed, snuggling some more. “I got a driver’s license.”

_“You_ got a license?”

“I never use it,” Oikawa defended, “But just in case.” 

“I tried to quit smoking.” 

“Didn’t work, I see.”

“Not at all.” 

“I was Prom King.” Oikawa stated proudly, “And one of three valedictorians.” 

“Figures.” Iwa smiled. “I still play volleyball.”

Oikawa looked up, “With Kuroo and everyone?” 

Iwa nodded, “Most of them, yeah. Kuroo and Tsukki are still together.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

Oikawa sniffled, still not having gotten rid of his post-crying phase. “Those two seem like a mess.” 

“They kind of are.” 

“Nee, Iwa-chan! What if—” he sat up suddenly, excitedly, but all thoughts left his mind, when he realized he wasn’t wearing the shirt he’d walked in with. Oikawa swallowed thickly, tugging at the front of the shirt. They definitely hadn’t slept together. Oikawa’s body had known Iwa. And it couldn’t…it _wasn’t,_ right? Iwa wouldn’t—

“What’s this?” 

“So you _don’t_ remember last night—”

“I do!” 

Iwa rolled his eyes, pulling him back in, Oikawa falling rather brusquely onto Iwa’s chest. “You threw up all over yourself.” 

Tooru blushed deeply. “I did?” 

Iwa smiled, “Still a lightweight.” 

Oikawa only reddened further, “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” 

Oikawa laughed suddenly, propping himself on Iwa’s chest, letting their foreheads bump together. “This feels like deja vu.” 

Iwa wrapped his arms around, squeezing him, “It does.” 

“Mm…but I can’t remember what happened next.” 

“You threw up.” 

Oikawa laughed, rubbing his nose against Iwa’s. “Right. But that happened last night apparently.” 

“Maybe you should just throw up again?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” Oikawa made a face, still smiling, “What else?” 

“I never got to make you breakfast, that day.” 

Iwa didn’t look at him when he said that, stared up at the ceiling instead, with foggy eyes that were probably looking through the past. 

“Did you want to?” Oikawa said quietly. 

Iwa scoffed. “Yeah. I think I did.” 

“Do you want to now?” He added, even more softly. 

“You know,” Iwa said, looking at him now, eyes full of pride and playfulness, “I _am_ a chef now. It’ll be the best goddamn breakfast you’ve ever had in your whole fucking life.” 

“Well then by all means,” Tooru smiled again, brushing their lips together, before Iwa tightened his grip, rolling them over and suffocating Oikawa in his hug.

“Iwa-ch—“

“In a bit,” he said, voice a lot softer than it had been up to now, almost as if he were trying to whisper. “Can we stay like this, a little longer?” 

And Oikawa didn’t have to say anything, just nod and curl into him more, press his lips against his chest just like they used to, and inhale the smoky scent that was Iwaizumi Hajime. 

Because that was the sort of thing Oikawa Tooru liked most. 

“Tooru.”

“Mm?”

“Why’d you keep coming back? To the bar, I mean.” 

Oikawa thought a moment before answering. “I wanted to see you.” 

“Then why’d you pretend to not know who I was?”

“Did you believe me?”

“Not really.”

Oikawa smiled sadly, squeezing again. “I wanted to hurt you.” 

Iwa sighed, “That’s fair, I guess.” 

Oikawa bit his lip, shaking fingers wrapping around Iwa’s. “French toast.” 

“What?” 

“That’s what I want,” he rested his head, before closing his eyes, “For breakfast. With coffee.”

“Still take it black?”

He nodded. 

“Ok then,” Iwa said, running his hands through Oikawa’s hair again, “French toast.” 

“With coffee.” Oikawa reminded. 

Iwa pressed his lips against Oikawa’s forehead, thinking he was just as spoiled as he’d always been. AndIwa realized he didn’t really mind at all. So he kissed him, before moving to his cheeks, and finally his lips, holding his head steady so that Tooru couldn’t turn away. But Tooru just placed his hands over Iwa’s, hooking his fingers and deepening their kiss. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pulled away, breathless, “Make it sweet.” 

Hajime wasn’t sure if Oikawa meant the kiss, or the French toast, but either way, he figured it applied to both. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, leaning in again, “Sweet sounds good.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *UGLY SOBBING* Oh god it's over. My first Haikyuu fic is officially done. Oh lord I'm so sad. I suck at letting go lol. 
> 
> Ok so, you guys. You lovely lovely people who take the time to review. I love you. I wouldn't have made it without you, and I mean that most seriously. Reviews are like the bread and butter to us fic writers, so seriously thank you so much for doing so! It pushed me to keep going even through those horrible blocks I got, and it just means a lot. 
> 
> *ahem* anyways. Time skips are really the only way I know how to end things so that's what I went with lol I'm sorry I know it's horrible I will try to improve but I really suck balls at endings XD (Again, I just hate letting go) But! There'll be plenty more to come in terms of other fics and stuff. I'm gonna try to finish up my omegaverse one so if you're following that, please look forward to it. And I also have brand new oneshot idea for a different IwaOi AU which I won't give too much away on but it'll be a prince au ^o^ so I hope to finish that one up around March maybe. 
> 
> So yeah! I really hope you enjoyed this little story here. Originally it was only supposed to be like 4 chapters but it ran away from me as always lol. This was really just super self indulgent because I wanted an excuse for Iwa to have a motorcycle and a tattoo but also be a bartender and a punk and just... I also really wanted to use the whole 'are you my mom iwa-chan line' Yeah...I'm in love with Iwa-chan lol. I also really love incorporating titles into stories so sorry not sorry if that bothers you XD If you liked it even just a little then that fills me with more happy feels than I can describe ^^ If you're willing to take a moment to comment or whatever (even in how I can improve) it's very much welcome! Thank you all so much as always, and I look forward to seeing you guys in the next story! 
> 
> Oh yeah! I'm on tumblr if you wanna give me a follow or drop an ask or something: madamemalfoy21 (I'm pretty much madamemalfoy21 everywhere lol)
> 
> Thanks guys! *throws kisses and tissues*

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck me I started another story. I'm gonna hate myself for this, I just know it. Updates are going to be spazzy as hell so please be patient with me on this one lol. Comments are greatly appreciated so if you have time please do so ^o^ Thanks everyone!


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